In My Sight
by EarthDragonette
Summary: Poppy and James have been sent to England to investigate the disappearance of a Circle Daybreak agent. When they arrive, they find things to be worse than anybody previously suspected, and must rely on their training and love to succeed. Ch VI up!
1. Chapter I

Author's Note:

I've been a fan of L.J. Smith for years, and one of the things that always disconcerted me about her Nightworld series was that we never got to spend a lot of time with the couples. Normally, they would meet, go through plot, and get together at the end with a sense of renewed purpose against the dark forces. There was really no time to savor the romance and the link between the two lovers, although there were usually some really intense scenes involving the soulmate connection.

Eventually, this led me to an idea for a set of fanfictions. My plan, at this point, is to write a story for each couple and flesh out their relationship a bit. All of the stories will take place within the frame of L.J. Smith's books, so nothing should really happen that could be considered "alternate universe." I just want to give each couple an adventure and a way to understand each other in a different light and context than they had before. With a _few_ of the fanfictions, I may have to take some liberties with the relationship and advance it beyond what was originally set down for us (with Ash and Mary-Lynnette for example). However, more or less, I'm just taking what the author gave us and running with it for a bit.

I hope you enjoy them!

***

**__**

In My Sight

By: EarthDragonette

Disclaimer: I am in no way trying to assert that I own or have control over any characters or ideas created by Lisa Jane Smith. All of the Nightworld characters and concepts are hers, but all of the _original_ characters are mine. I'm not trying to make a cent off of this story. 

Rating: PG-13 for now, possibly R in later chapters.

Extra Note: The format of the first part of this chapter is a little on the odd side. Just so you know, the speech in Italics is thought being transmitted between Poppy and James. They won't correspond with the actual dialogue that they're having, so it may be a little hard to keep the two conversations separate. ^_^

****

Chapter I

James Rasmussen leaned back against the black, velvet couch, stretching his legs out in front of him and trying his best to broadcast to those around him that he was bored. It wasn't terribly difficult to do, as he had spent the last four evenings on the very same couch, looking across the very same club and keeping his eyes and ears open for the very same information.

No . . . it wasn't difficult at all.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he rolled his head back to gaze at the ceiling, his lamia eyes easily adjusting to the cacophony of bright lights and mirrors above him. As far as clubs went, this one wasn't a particularly bad one. Set in downtown London behind a bakery, it was a well-known haunt for European Nightworld teens and young adults alike, hosting a number of bands throughout the week and all night raves on the weekends. The music was decent, the drinks rather strong, and the company was generally amiable.

Still, it wasn't home, and he wanted to return as soon as possible. Being outside of the United States at a time like this made him nervous, adding to the general discomfort that he always felt whenever he was knee-deep in undercover operations. As one of Thierry's main agents, however, he and Poppy had to go wherever they were sent.

In this instance, Thierry had been concerned about the lack of contact between the American and British factions of Circle Daybreak. It had been some months since a representative from the United States had been sent to England to assess the situation with the Nightworld and to compare it to the atmosphere on the American side. The situation had become more intense as of a week ago when Thierry had lost contact with the first field agent that had been sent to London, a vampire by the name of Jason Wilde. Pulling Poppy and James from a previous assignment, he'd sent them to England to check out the last club where Jason had been seen. Five days into the mission, James and Poppy were still relatively in the dark as to the agent's whereabouts, and he was tiring of the atmosphere, never having been one to enjoy partying every single night. 

Still, he'd do anything for Circle Daybreak. Even if it meant being present for the same mediocre bands four nights in a row.

He just wished that they would take more breaks.

Just as his thoughts were taking a turn down a rather cynical path, the couch collided with a burst of bright, wild energy. Well, that's how James would've described it, although in reality it was Poppy North, his soulmate and fellow field agent.

"Dennis! I've been looking everywhere for you, darling!" she crooned, flopping on to the couch and nearly falling into his lap, snuggling against him fiercely.

Grumbling to himself, James scooted away from Poppy holding out his arms as a sign of defense, visibly disgusted with the attention. "I thought I told you, Jessi, I'm _really_ not interested."

__

Hey. Did you find out anything?

Curling herself into a little ball and sticking her lower lip out in a tremendous pout, 'Jessi' sniffed at 'Dennis,' "I don't know what you're talking about. We had such fun last night!"

__

Hey yourself. Little bit. Take a look to my left. See that girl with the blonde hair? 

James shifted irately away from her, glancing to his right in passing. Next to the bar was a petite female in a skin-tight black dress. Perched on the barstool with her icy-blonde hair floating around her, she looked as bored with the club as James was. "You're delusional." 

__

Ah, sure. What about her?

Responding to James's movement, Poppy followed his body with her own, shifting so that she was effectively curled in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and giggling wildly as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Dennis, you're so silly."

__

This is her first night here since you and I started coming. She's had her eye on you most of the evening. 

Sighing audibly, James picked Poppy up (an easy feat given that Poppy was about half James's size and considerably lighter) and placed her on the other end of the couch, crossing his arms to dissuade her from climbing into his lap a second time.

__

Yeah, I saw. I don't feel anything threatening about her though, no sense of hostile intent.

Giving up on James's lap, Poppy snuggled next to him and laid her head on his shoulder, toying with the cotton of his shirt.

__

I'm getting weird vibes from her though. She's interested in you, but it's not like . . . physical interest. She wants something, but it's not exactly you.

Grimacing, James did his best to make a show of ignoring the coppery-haired Elf attached to his right side.

__

Gee, thanks.

Unable to keep herself from giggling, Poppy masked her true amusement by rolling up one of James's sleeves, examining his forearms appreciatively. "I just _love_ your arms, Dennis! You're so strong!"

__

I didn't mean it like that, Jamie. Besides, *I* want you. Who else do you need?

Keeping his face a calm mask despite his urge to grin his delight at Poppy, he stood up abruptly, the sudden movement causing her to fall over on the couch, "Jessi, you really can't take a hint, can you?"

__

When I have you? Nobody.

Feeling the truth behind his words, it was rather difficult for Poppy to scowl at him and display a matching irritation, "Dennis, if you don't stop doing this, you're going to lose me."

A light of triumph flashed in James's eyes as he began to back away from Poppy "Do you promise?"

__

Going back to the girl . . . do you think I should talk to her? See if she has any information we can use?

Appearing to panic at losing ground with her prey, Poppy launched herself at James, the unanticipated contact with her frame (as slight as it was) being enough to push him against the wall, "Oh, Dennis, don't say that! You know you don't mean it!"

__

Yes. She wasn't too comfortable talking to me. I think I just annoyed her. 

Pushing back against her and setting her at an arm's length, James replied in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Oh, but I do. You have no idea how much I do." 

__

Okay, that sounds fine. Why don't you finish up your rounds here and then head back to the hotel? I'll follow you in about an hour.

Ducking below his arms, Poppy pressed herself against his chest and nuzzled his neck, "Now Dennis, if you keep this up, I won't be so easily persuaded by your charms like I was last night."

__

That's fine by me. I want to check out that shape shifter from Berlin again, just to see if he's heard anything from his mate about that supposed kidnapping around the Spanish-French border.

Seeming to finally tire of her obtuseness, James shoved Poppy away rather harshly, her innate sense of balance being the only thing to keep her on her feet after such a push. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. You really need to stop following me around." He began to frantically look around for an escape.

__

Just be careful. 

Glaring at James viciously, Poppy pushed her rowdy, coppery hair back from her face, "You didn't say that LAST night Dennis. I remember. Don't think I don't."

__

I will.

"I'm sure you remember everything just as you want to, Jessi," he crooned. "Now try to remember where the exit is."

__

I love you.

Hissing at him angrily, Poppy turned to flounce away from the couch and head towards the other side of the club.

__

I love you, too.

James sighed inwardly, wishing with all of his heart that he were following her immediately, or better yet, that they were already together at the hotel.

__

Showtime, he thought grimly. 

__

***

Carefully making his way to the bar, James used his powers to closely rein in his thoughts, making certain that his shields were up and that there wasn't even a slight chance that someone could get in and read his true intentions. It was something that he'd always known how to do, even as a child. Now, however, it was more of a highly trained skill that he used to keep himself alive. 

It was a training that he would always been thankful of having had the chance to receive. After leaving the West Coast and locating Poppy's father after Poppy's change, the couple had needed some means by which to survive. Completing high school was out of the question for both of them, Poppy's recent human-life requiring a certain amount of discretion for the time being and James not exactly being on speaking terms with his parents. Even the Nightworld had been less than promising, despite Poppy's lost-witch heritage; at a delicate time between the clans, a hybrid was just radical enough to merit unwelcome receptions from the more traditional members. Just as the couple had begun to consider leaving the States and moving overseas, they had received a phone call from Ash, of all people. Although a great deal less "snarky," as Poppy had put it, he still had a particular way with words and it had taken a considerable number of phone calls for James to listen to what his cousin had to say. As it turned out, the once-callous vampire had been forced onto a path of redemption and had heard about Circle Daybreak along the way. Thinking to begin said redemption with a repayment for his past actions to his cousin, he had located them and offered up some information.

Joining Circle Daybreak had been their salvation and an ideal answer for Thierry, a former Lord of the Nightworld, who, for all intents and purposes, was leader of the organization. In its newest incarnation, the circle desperately needed informants and spies throughout the Nightworld and Poppy and James needed a place to belong. Given their slightly unorthodox status as a lamia and made-vampire soulmate couple, the pair was already inclined to keep a low profile and their genetic predisposition was perfect for the action required of the job. The training had been difficult; many hours had gone into perfecting expressions and tones of voice as well as the ability to remember information upon hearing it only once or to recollect a face in the crowd upon a single sighting. There had also been extensive combat training, made all the more difficult as Poppy had still been getting used to her new abilities. There had been more than one night where he and Poppy had collapsed into bed in the evening, almost dizzy with the loss of identity and physical exhaustion. In the end, though, James was content. He had Poppy, and they were safe. They weren't on the run, and they had a place to call home. 

Granted, he sometimes wearied of the long hours and constant travelling. Usually sent on anywhere from six to eight assignments a month, he and Poppy had more than indulged their desire to see the world. Paris, Tokyo, Moscow, Quito, and Rome were only a few of the places that they'd seen in the past six months alone. Being a spy for Circle Daybreak was a far cry from a day job. It was his life's work, and it was a passion. His and Poppy's.

He _really_ hoped that she was being careful. It wasn't that he thought she couldn't take care of herself, but rather that even now, even as a made-vampire, she was still so small. He hated it when he couldn't be there to protect her, to make absolutely certain that she was safe.

He'd come so close to losing her last time.

Adding a final layer to the energy surrounding his mental self, James slid onto one of the barstools next to the blonde, calling to the bartender and ordering a Coke. Hunching forward, he rubbed his temples with his fingers, acting for the entire world as if he were bone-weary – a condition that really wasn't too difficult to feign.

Glancing over to him, the blonde smiled, her electric-blue eyes lighting up with a kind of knowing, "Problems with your admirers?"

Instantly placing her accent as one of the inner-city dialects, James became twice as interested in her as a contact. If she had been around London for some time, there was a greater chance that she would know something about Jason's disappearance. Easily sliding into his role in the conversation, James rolled his eyes, "You have no idea. She hasn't left me alone since I walked into the club last Monday night. It's completely ridiculous."

Sliding a little bit closer to him, the young woman smiled. "So, you haven't been in town long?"

Nodding to the bartender and taking a sip of his drink, James regarded her with a steady gaze, smiling a little, "Not long, no. I'm here on vacation."

Her light eyebrows arching delicately, the young woman leaned her head forward, "Truly? How wonderful! Do you find London to be as grand as the stories?"

Keeping a rather neutral expression on his face, James took another sip of his Coke, considering the question. "I find it to be interesting. You can literally _feel_ the history in the very roads that you walk, and the culture shock from an American perspective is rather invigorating."

Calling to the bartender for another drink, the girl tossed her hair behind her shoulder, "Oh, I see what you mean. I've never been to the Americas myself, but I hear it's marvelous." Raising her new drink in thanks, she turned to James and offered a delicate hand, "I beg your pardon, I've been horribly rude. I haven't even introduced myself. You may call me Vanessa. " James took her hand in his and tilted his head. "Dennis Blackthorn."

Her eyes widened slightly, the color flaring to a deeper blue with the emotion, "Truly? Now that's curious."

Feeling his pulse accelerate slightly, James applied a slight pressure to her fingers before gently pulling his hand away. "What's curious?"

"We must be cousins. My mother's side of the family is Blackthorn. Who are your grandparents?"

Thinking quickly and retrieving the volumes of information that he had memorized before departing on the trip, James easily offered the answer, "My grandfather on my father's side is Tyler Blackthorn. We know very little about my grandmother as she died shortly after my father was born."

Raising her drink again in deep thought, her eyes narrowly focused inward. After a moment she lifted her gaze, "Oh, I see. Tyler Blackthorn is a distant cousin of my grandmother's." Giving him a critical eye, she continued, "Why have I not seen you at clan gatherings?"

Shrugging his shoulders, James gave her a half smile. "My father doesn't like gatherings. They make him nervous."

"Hmmm," she murmured noncommittally, regarding him with a side-glance. "Interesting."

Feeling her interest in him taking a less opportunistic turn, James leaned forward to re-engage her in conversation. "Tell me more about yourself. Do you come to this club often? This is the first I've seen of you all week."

"Fairly often, yes. I've been–" she began before looking up into the crowd with a frozen expression on her face. Standing up suddenly, she knocked over the barstool, her eyes never leaving the crowd and her stricken expression only becoming more pronounced. James rose only a moment later, concern on his face.

"Is everything alright?"

Shaking her head and murmuring to herself over and over, "It's him. He found me," the woman looked at him with a terrified expression before dashing off towards one of the exits, swooping down at the last moment to retrieve her purse. James hesitated for only a fraction of a second before following her, hoping that he wouldn't regret rushing off by himself.

***

Moments later, he appeared outside of the club's doors, the clouds of his breath contrasting harshly against the clear night air. Looking around intently, he found that he could see no sign of the girl and her scent was masked by the smell of all the other beings in the vicinity. Leaning against the wall, he heaved a sign of regret. She knew something about what was going on. He wasn't sure how he could tell, but he sensed that she was connected to Jason's disappearance. Seeped in frustration and harboring an intense desire to have the whole thing over with, he welcomed the light touch of Poppy's mind against his own.

__

Jamie? Is everything okay?

Smiling grimly to himself, he could only respond, _About as okay as usual. I'll be up in a minute._

He could feel it. Something was starting. 

***

End Chapter I

There we go! Now it's your turn to accept a mission - click the button at the bottom of the screen and tell me what you think of this story. I need encouragement and validation to keep writing it! Come on, it'll only take a few seconds, and you'll seriously brighten up somebody's day! ^_^


	2. Chapter II

Author's Note:

Woot!  Reviews!  So sweet!

Rocket:                        I'm glad that this is one of your favorite couples.  Poppy and James are really awesome characters to start out with.  James has just the right amount of snarkiness to get me ready to take on Ash in the next story, and Poppy has enough energy to keep me entertained.  I hope you continue to enjoy!

Practikalmagik: Yay!  A fellow more-details-and-fluff-about-the-soulmates fan.  I shall do my best to cater to your expectations ~_^

Rheia:                           I'm glad that you find this interesting.  I hope that you get a chance to explore Poppy and James a little more through this story.  They have such interesting personalities and it's just amazing to see how they're going to react to all that's ahead of them.

Thank you to all of those who reviewed.  I love knowing that the writing is being accepted *curses the typos that still continue to elude her* and that I've caught your interest.  

Regarding this chapter:  It turned out to be a lot fluffier than I had originally intended for it to be (still within the realms of a PG-13 rating, though).  As such, the plot sort of takes a little break here, but I think it's useful since it clears up some more background information.  Starting with chapter three, though, I promise, many things will happen.  So bear with the fluff for now ~_^

Oh, by the way.  I've never actually _been to London.  I have, however, done some research, so I think I more or less have the right idea with the locations.  Since I'm only human, however, I imagine I'll make a mistake eventually.  If you see an error, just let me know and I'll fix it.  =)_

***

**_In My Sight_**

By: EarthDragonette

Disclaimer:        I am in no way trying to assert that I own or have control over any characters or ideas created by Lisa Jane Smith. All of the Nightworld characters and concepts are hers, but all of the _original characters are mine. I'm not trying to make a cent off of this story. _

                        I also am in no way affiliated with the Milestone Hotel Kensington.  I'm only making use of it because it seemed to be the kind of hotel that Thierry would want his agents to stay in due to safety and such, and I just couldn't resist the scene it provoked. 

Rating: PG-13 for now, possibly R in later chapters.

***

**Chapter II**

Overlooking Kensington Palace, the Milestone Hotel Kensington was one of the more unique forms of luxury that London had to offer.  Espoused to be an "intimate, Five Star boutique hotel," it was the ideal location for a wealthy individual to stay in while enjoying the more expensive side of London.  Situated within walking distance of Kensington Palace and mere minutes away from prestigious colleges and museums, it embodied the spirit of academia and wealth.

Currently, Poppy North, field agent for Circle Daybreak, was enjoying the spirit of Oreos and techno.

"Daa-daa-da/da/da/da-da-**ta-da-****ta!  Da!  Da!  Da!  Da!  Daa-daa-da/da/da/da-da-****ta-da-**ta**! Da!  Da!  Da!  Da!  Daa . . . " she belted out, stomping her feet in time to the bass line of the music and hopping from one foot to another all while shaking a bag of Oreo cookies in her left hand and holding on to one of the precious desserts with her right.  **

_Gotta dance!  Gotta dance!_  She thought to herself, twisting her hips first one way and then another before resuming her hopping.  Glancing at the bedside clock, she wondered how much longer James was going to be.  She really hadn't had a proper chance to talk to him since earlier that morning, and she was beginning to feel decidedly contrary about it.

Skipping over to one of the many chairs sprawled out in one of the Master Suites of the hotel, Poppy plopped down with a self-satisfied sigh, letting her gaze roam over the accommodations that Thierry had so generously provided for them.  She personally thought that it was ridiculous to give two teenagers access to such a spiffy room, but if the head of Circle Daybreak wanted them to reside in obnoxious splendor, who was she to argue?

"Just one of his minions," she answered, chuckling delightedly at the image of her and James bowing before Thierry in melodramatic awe and adulation.

"As _if."_

Jumping back up, Poppy skittered to the beat still pouring forth from the entertainment system's speakers, examining the suite for perhaps the fortieth time since she and James had arrived in London five days prior.  She still couldn't get over how _expensive everything looked and felt.  All of the furniture was a rich, luscious wood and all of the electronics were up to date.  Poppy had been intrigued and delighted by turns as she fully explored the entertainment system in the middle of the main room, and had nearly keeled over when she discovered a similar setup in the bathroom.  There was even an office set off to the side that was available for meetings and video conferences, and the bedroom had the largest canopy bed that she had ever conceived of (thus leading her to thoughts that she had to confess of having conceived of on more than one occasion).  The entire suite was decorated in rich shades of cream and brown, and there were always baskets of ripe fruit and vases of fresh flowers.  Combined with a serving staff that was ready and willing to cater to any need that came up (although Poppy and James did turn down the canapés that were offered in the evenings), it was easily ten times more extravagant than Thierry's mansion in Las Vegas, and that was really saying something.  _

Normally when she and James traveled, they stayed at hotels that fit their mission identities.  This meant that over the course of her association with Circle Daybreak she had slept in everything from tents to grungy motels to . . . well, to her current suite in the heart of fashionable Kensington; it was the high classification of the current mission that had placed them in such upscale lodgings.  With the disappearance of one Circle Daybreak agent, Thierry wanted the best security available for Poppy and James, and the most logical place for that was the furthest place from where their mission identities would most likely stay.  In the end, residing in one of the most exclusive hotels in London and being armed with a suitcase full of wards from the Harmans, Poppy and James were as safe as they were going to get.  

_After all, it would be so outrageously churlish of me to object to Thierry's generosity, _she thought, feeling rather superior in light of her virtuous disposition.  _Besides, I've never stayed in a place like this before . . . especially as a human._

Furrowing her brow at the thought, she wandered out of the office, crossing into the main living area and heading for the bedroom.  As she was again assailed by the intense rhythm of the Euro dance blasting from the speakers, she felt her blood race and the unwelcome musings wandered further back into her brain.  Having always been a fan of different kinds of music, Poppy North's first introduction to techno and club dance mixes had blossomed into an obsession.  She still adored her Irish pub music and tuva throat singers, but in her current mood, nothing was better than the audio representation of strobe lights.    

Just as she was getting into her dancing, alternating a stomp of her foot with a chomp of a cookie, she felt James enter the hotel and his mind call for hers.  She answered him in kind and started to make her way towards the door to welcome him.  Just as she burst into the entryway, however, an actual voice interrupted her progress.

"Thierry did _not_ pay for this room so you could get crumbs all over the furniture and between the bed-sheets," James drawled, casually leaning against the doorframe, eyebrow arched and arms crossed.

Ducking her head with a slight blush, Poppy took the opportunity to cram another Oreo into her mouth, her left foot still tapping to the beat pounding out of the speakers, "Bu-ah, I wah-ndt _nheehr _ha fed."

Grinning wryly as he pushed himself from the entryway, James walked past her and headed towards the bedroom with a slight twinkle in his eye, "You were definitely flying around the room enough.  You're a vampire, remember?  Your playful tossing covers more surface area now."  Reaching the gargantuan bed, he ran his hand over the quilt, catching a substantial number of tell-tale chocolate crumbs in his palm and holding them up for Poppy to examine. "See?"  

Gulping down her last mouthful, Poppy self-consciously rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth, looking down at the last minute to realize that she'd just knocked another handful of sugar on to the once-spotless carpet.  Raising her head to look James in the eye and offer some sort of explanation, she was startled to find him standing right in front of her.

"Ack!" She took a step back, her arms flailing wildly as she began to fall over a pile of clothing.  In a quick flash of movement, James slipped behind her and caught her in his arms, securing her weight easily and preventing her from tumbling to the ground.

Unfortunately, he'd forgotten one thing in his rescue.

"For the love of God, Jamie!  Forget me!  Save the cookies!"

Glancing up, he saw the bag arching up into the air, having been shaken from Poppy's grasp in her stumble.  Lightly tossing her towards the direction of the bed, he leapt over an armchair, snatching the Oreos out of harm's way right before they collided with a wall.  Quickly changing directions, he grunted as his body hit the floor and rolled, the impact being enough to jolt him for a moment.

"Ooh!  You did it!"  Having recovered from her own brush with gravity, Poppy deftly hopped over to James, taking the package from his hands and kissing him smartly.  "I always knew you were special!"  Skipping away to the stereo, she looked at it intently before selecting another track.

"I'm glad to see which one of us you were concerned for.  If we ever end up in another fight in a grocery store, I'll be sure to save the snack products before tending to my own wounds."

Glancing at James, Poppy twirled in a tight circle, frowning slightly.  "You know it has nothing to do with priorities, Jamie.  It's . . . whatchamacallit . . . symbolic.  A Daybreaker thing."

Rolling over to his side, and propping his head up with his hand, James arched an eyebrow. "A Daybreaker thing," he echoed.

Nodding, Poppy confirmed, "A Daybreaker thing."  Tightly closing the cookie bag with a twist, Poppy placed it in its official spot in one of the bedside tables.

"What does the survival of cookies have to do with unifying witches, vampires, shape shifters, and humans?"

Sliding over to him, she plopped down on to the floor and pressed her nose against his own.  "Well, until we're all united . . . we must protect every life that we see in danger."

"And Oreo cookies have lives?"  A skeptical tone here.

"Oh, yes.  They don't last very long, but they are precious and bright and full of love and laughter."  Turning her head to the side, Poppy broke into a grin, "Oh!  I love this song!"  Shifting to go and turn up the volume on the stereo, she felt a restraining hand on her arm, and a gentle tug.

Glancing at James, Poppy felt her heart race and face flush as her stomach dropped away from her.  Even now, even after so many years of friendship, even after over a year as a soulmate couple, James still did this to her.  He had a way of looking at her, when his green eyes were especially bright, that let her know that he understood her, that he _knew_ her.  

It made her conscious of how deeply he accepted her and needed her.  How he was still with her . . . after everything, he stayed with her.  And she stayed with him . . .

Frowning slightly, she barely noticed when, moving up into a sitting position, James pulled Poppy against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin.  

_Poppy, what's wrong?_

It wasn't strange behavior that had drawn James's notice to her mood.  He knew that it was normal for Poppy to work off the tension of the day with music or to relax by dancing around; truth be known, he had joined her more than once.  It was one of the things that made her who she was, one of the things that compelled him to love her.  No, what caught James's attention was a sense within her that was off - thoughts in her mind that were clamoring for acknowledgement and that he could tell she was trying to push away and not indulge.  Nuzzling her neck gently, he tried to wrap his mind around her, using his love and devotion as a means of comfort.

Knowing that she could never hide anything from James, Poppy turned to snuggle against him, resting her forehead against his chest.

_Phil called._

At once, James understood.  Phone calls from Poppy's brother were a double-edged sword: a gift as well as a curse.  On one hand, Poppy was always desperate to hear news about her home, her family and her friends.  James could feel the longing in her soul for parts of her old life even as she responded eagerly to everything about her new life.  On the other hand, however, the information was a link - a contact with a world that could never be hers again.  As often as it cheered her to know that her mother had gone out with friends or that her brother had done well on another exam, it also brought her down, covering her with a mist of depression that James was often at a loss as to how to banish.   

Drawing her into his mind as deeply as he could without the power of blood, James flooded her with images of his love and understanding, his support and his pride of how well she accepted the changes in her life.  _Did he say anything unusual?  Is everything okay?_

Shuddering with the waves of James's essence flowing through her, Poppy felt her muscles slowly begin to relax and her mind clear from the numbing wall she had thrown up against her impressions from the earlier conversation with her brother.  _He told me that my mother went to the cemetery three times this week.  She's getting a promotion at work and she . . . she wanted to tell me about it.  She went before all of her important meetings . . . Phil said that she felt that I brought her luck.  I wasn't **there Jamie.  She was just talking to herself . . . she thought I was there, but I wasn't.  I was here.**_

Continuing to send a constant assurance of his love and support, James rubbed her back with one of his hands while his other buried itself in her hair, smoothing the tresses back from her forehead.  Even after a year together, he had to admit that he still wasn't very good at comforting her.  He just didn't know what to say half of the time, and the rest of the time the words felt wrong.  _I know, Poppy.  I understand.  What can I do?_

Almost as if she didn't hear him, Poppy continued, curling her hands around his arm, her nails digging into his shirt.  _I just . . . I don't feel guilty about my decision.  I was so close to dying, to leaving everything  . . . and she told me that if I had to go away, if I couldn't be with her but I could be better, then she'd want me to.  But she didn't believe it could happen, and I feel so guilty that she's looking up towards heaven for me . . . and I'm not there.  I can't be there to love her._

Struck by inspiration, James gratefully seized upon the last thread of her thought.  _But you're HERE to love her, Poppy.  You ask about her and you nag Phil to do nice things for her.  You even send her dreams when you can, letting her know that you're thinking about her.  She isn't wrong to think that you're not watching over her . . . you are.  And, you heard about her promotion, didn't you?  Maybe not in the way she thinks you did, but you DO know._

Poppy didn't reply for some time, her thoughts fluttering from one idea to another so quickly that even James couldn't pick up on what they exactly were.  After awhile, though, her shaking stopped and he could sense within her a calmness that hadn't been there when he'd entered the room earlier.  Heaving a sigh, she looked up at him, her eyes dry and her forehead smooth.  When she spoke, it was with both her mind and her voice, so he didn't doubt the truth of her words.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Jamie."  

Slightly flustered, he could only send a wave of appreciation to her through their connection.

"I'm sorry that I get like this sometimes . . . I'm dealing with it, I am.  Some days are better than others."  She turned to him fully and looked him directly in the eyes, "I don't regret it though.  Not for a moment.  I wouldn't go back and change anything that we did."

Grinning down at her, James teased, "As if I would've let you do anything differently."

Her delight streaming back to him, she kissed him gently and grinned back, "Probably not."

***

About an hour later, after James and Poppy had discreetly stepped out of the hotel to find a meal and had returned to the suite, the phone in the office rang.  Poking her head out of the bathroom where she had been brushing her teeth, Poppy saw James rise to get it.  He'd placed a telephone call to Thierry before they'd left, leaving a message with one of his assistants for the former Lord to call him back.  Upon hearing confirmation that it was indeed Thierry on the phone, returning James's call, Poppy quickly finished and dashed to the office, taking a seat by James as he turned on the video phone.

Within seconds, a commanding figure flashed on the screen, looking as though the weight of the entire world rested on his shoulders for all his youthful appearance.  Thierry Descouedres leaned back in his office chair, his dark eyes gazing steadily at Poppy and James as he appraised them for physical as well as mental conditions.

"You two seem to be well enough.  Have you found out any more information?"

James sighed and Poppy shook her head.  "We went back to the club tonight, Thierry, but all of my contacts came away clean," Poppy offered, running a hand through her curls. "The kidnapping that we thought might have been involved turned out to be a dead trail; it was just a regular little boy who had nothing to do with Jason.  We were thinking about trying for one more night and then moving on to some other clubs."

"Actually, something _did_ happen tonight," James corrected, his voice soft and contemplative.

Poppy looked quizzically at her soulmate for a moment before comprehension dawned, "Oh, Jamie.  The girl!  How could I have forgotten?"

He shook his head at her, dismissing her guilt.  "It's not just you – it actually slipped my mind as well.  I can't imagine why . . . it was all so weird."  Glancing at the video screen to see Thierry humoring their bafflement, James moved quickly to fill him in.  "Tonight we saw a girl at the club, one that we hadn't seen before.  Poppy tried to talk to her but didn't get any information, so she sent me over to try.  We chatted for a few minutes and I was about to push her to see if she might know anything when all of a sudden, she just stood up and freaked out.  She looked completely terrified, and all she could say was 'It's him. He found me.'  I tried to follow her outside when she ran, but I lost track of her and her scent."

Furrowing his brow in thought, Thierry sat for a few moments, tapping his pen against his desk and rubbing his chin.  After awhile, he looked up at Poppy.  "Poppy, what prompted you to have James speak with her?"

Chewing her lip thoughtfully, Poppy squinted one of her eyes before replying, "It was . . . a feeling I had.  She wanted something, Thierry, and it had something to do with James.  I just didn't know what.  When I tried to talk to her about him, she completely ignored me and wouldn't respond to anything I said.  I figured that James was our only hope of getting any information out of her."

"Did she seem to want something from you when you spoke with her, James?"

James shook his head.  "No, not really.  She was curious as to my background and business, and she had a particular interest in my family."

Leaning forward in his chair, Thierry asked, "She wanted to know about the Blackthorns?"

James nodded.  "Yeah, she said that her mother was a Blackthorn and that 

Tyler Blackthorn – my grandfather for all intents and purposes – was one of her grandmother's cousins."

His frown returning, Thierry regarded James and Poppy with a steady gaze.  "That's very interesting.  What was her name?"

"Vanessa.  That's all she told me – I thought I would have time to get a last name from her, but I wasn't so lucky."

Waving his hand dismissively, Thierry assured James, "Don't worry about it.  With a connection to the Blackthorns and a first name, our people will be sure to find out more about her.  Was that all you saw tonight?"

"That's it."  

Nodding and settling back in his chair again, Thierry said, "Alright.  For now, your orders remain as they were – keep investigating the club scenes by night and checking out the transportation facilities during the day.  Although, there is one thing you should change – I'd like for you two to start interacting together on a companionship level while undercover.  It's decidedly dangerous since it presents your obvious weakness to whomever is involved in this situation, but it's better for you two to have somebody to watch your back.  No more solo excursions, James."

Poppy grinned. "Are you sure, Thierry?  I think James really likes having Jessi hang all over him."

Grumbling to himself, James poked Poppy in the ribs, "No more than you like having Dennis secretly admire your advances."

Before the couple could dive into a considerable amount of teasing, Thierry interrupted, "So I take it my meaning is clear, then.  Good.  I don't want to have to pay for this room if neither one of you is alive to appreciate it."

"We'll do that," James promised, leaning over to drape his arm around Poppy's shoulders and give her a brief squeeze.

"I'll call you tomorrow evening and touch base with you," Thierry continued, leaning forward to end the call.  "I'll let you know if I've found anything out about our mysterious woman."  Moving to hang up, he paused momentarily and added, "Oh, and Poppy?  Get some rest.  You look tired."

Hanging up the phone, James looked at Poppy and commented, "You know, sometimes, he really surprises me."

***

End Chapter II.

Ah, and another chapter comes to a close.  Not much in the way of plot development, but I figured that there was a call for fluff and a little emotional bonding.  The next chapter will pick up the pace as they start to work at getting this mystery unraveled.  Now, it's YOUR turn to write.  Click on the happy button down below and let me know what you think of this story.  I'm especially interested to see if I'm capturing the characters in the right way.  Review!  Review!  Review!


	3. Chapter III

Author's Note:

No, this story hasn't been forgotten!  I apologize to those who were (and hopefully still are!) interested in reading more.  I had no idea that my semester was going to be as crazy as it turned out to be, and I found myself without much time for anything, let alone writing.

The writer's block also didn't help *rueful grin*

Anyway, here (finally) is the third chapter, and I hope that you enjoy.  As always, please don't forget to review – it's the reason that I actually decided to make an effort to come back and continue this story.  Special thanks to Neva, WoLfePaWs, Li-chan, tvash, and A Pyro Girl for their comments about Chapter II.  

As to the fourth chapter, I can't make any _huge_ promises, but I really will try to have the next part up within a month or so.  

Anyway, on to the next part!

***

**_In My Sight_**

By: EarthDragonette

Disclaimer:        I am in no way trying to assert that I own or have control over any characters or ideas created by Lisa Jane Smith. All of the Nightworld characters and concepts are hers, but all of the _original characters are mine. I'm not trying to make a cent off of this story. _

                        I also am in no way affiliated with the Milestone Hotel Kensington.  I'm only making use of it because it seemed to be the kind of hotel that Thierry would want his agents to stay in due to safety and such, and I just couldn't resist the scene it provoked. 

Rating: PG-13 for now, possibly R in later chapters.

***

**Chapter III**

"You didn't get her."  Impatience.  Frustration.

"Master . . . " the man replied, bowing his head and intently studying the floor as he searched for some reasonable excuse for the failure.

"I sent you out and told you to get her.  You didn't get her."  This said softly, the figure leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

"Master." another man interjected, stepping in front of the first and holding his head up. "We went where you told us to go, and we _looked.  We spent over an hour searching in and around the club . . . she simply wasn't there.  She wasn't where she was supposed to be."_

A pause. 

"Are you saying that you think I gave you the wrong information, Charles?  Are you saying **I was wrong?"**

"Of . . . of course not, Master," the man offered.  "I would never, _never _propose such a thing.  I simply thought -"

"You thought I made a mistake.  You thought I was wrong."

"Really, Master-" the first man protested, searching for and almost finding the barest glimmers of courage from somewhere in the recesses of his soul.

"I wasn't."

Waiting for long moments, his heart pounding furiously in his chest cavity and sweat trickling down the back of his neck, the first man glanced at the second and then towards the figure.  "Master?"

"I wasn't wrong.  It wasn't me."

"Of . . . course it wasn't Master."  Thankful for the opportunity to calm the Master, the second man took a step towards the desk, kneeling before it to look up at the figure.

"No . . . it wasn't me.  It wasn't _her, either.  It was something else, some_one_ else."_

"That's what we thought, Master."  
  


"But it wasn't me."

"No, Master."

Another long pause.

"Charles."

"Yes, Master?"

"I want you to find out who it was.  I need you to help me.  You need to go out and find out who it was.  Find out who stopped me and saved her."

"I will do as you say, Master."  

"You need to find out who it was and you need to get rid of them.  I would appreciate it if you would kill them.  That would make me happy."

"Of course, Master."

"Andrew."

"Ye- yes, Master?"

"You are afraid of me."

"I . . . I respect you Master.  I am in awe of you and your abilities."

"You are afraid of me."

Tugging on the neck of his shirt, the man swallowed heavily, feeling his pulse thud beneath his fingers, the pace increasing by the second.  "On-" a cough, "Only because I revere you so, Master."

"I don't want people to be afraid of me, Andrew."

"I . . . I understand, Master."

"I won't let you be afraid of me."

"Master, no, I swear, I can-" 

His protests coming too late, Andrew felt a steady pressure build at the base of his neck before it overtook his head, a warm, fuzzy feeling dripping around his ears and down his forehead.

"Are you still afraid of me, Andrew?"

Silence.

"I'm glad."

Glancing over at the second man, the figure remarked in an offhanded tone, "You can go now, Charles."

Rising to his feet and averting his eyes from Andrew's inert form, the man retreated to the shadows, making his exit as quietly as possible.  Left alone with Andrew, the figure turned to him. 

"You have a new job, Andrew.  You get to go to _them_ now.  You can take care of them."

Glassy-eyed and drooling slightly, the man rigidly made his way to the door on the far side of the wall, opening it with a significant degree of difficulty as his limbs moved awkwardly to obey his will and his joints refused to bend properly.  As the door opened, dozens of small hands reached up to pull the body in, a low moan making its way to the figure's ears before the door slammed shut.

The figure leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes with a happy sigh.  "I'll look for you, too," he murmured.  

"Nobody makes my plans go wrong."

***

Whistling as she finished dressing for the day, Poppy glanced in the mirror and saw that James was sprawled across the bed, his eyes shut while waiting for her to finish.  Giving herself one last glance in the mirror, she bounced over to him, catching his left hand in hers and tugging on it.

"Come on, Jamie.  You're the one who wanted to get going," she teased.

Cracking open an eye in her direction, he smiled and stretched his long frame, rolling easily to his feet.  "You're right," he assured, doing a final check to make sure he had everything.

"'Course I am," she shot back, beaming at him.

Walking out of the hotel and making their way towards High Street Kensington Road, Poppy inhaled deeply, feeling satisfied with herself.  It had rained almost every day since their arrival in London and she was pleased to see the clouds presently covering less sky than they had in the past.  Grasping James's hand, she let her mind touch his lightly, communicating her generally pleasant feelings and optimism for their mission.  They would find out what happened to Jason, she was sure of it.  She bit her lip, wondering if perhaps it was awful of her to feel so cheerful when a fellow Daybreaker could be in pain or even dead.  It was hard not to, she reasoned, given the accommodations and uneventful nature of the trip so far.  

_Still_, she thought to herself, _it's not very professional to be bouncing around when we have a job to do.  That's it, North, time to be a competent spy.  You mean serious business.  _

Glancing around, determined to keep a sharper eye out, Poppy was intrigued to note that the public boards that they passed every now and again boasted the pictures of three or four missing children, all of the abductions seemingly recent.  As they turned into the tunnel entrance, she was surprised to see even more.

_That's so sad_, she thought to herself.  _Children being taken away from where they rightfully belong.  At least I was already dead to Mom when I left her._

Shrugging off the thought, Poppy paused a moment to let her eyes adjust to the change of light, pleased that she felt no handicap in the building due to her upgraded senses.  After giving the hallway a careful perusal, she was forced to admit that this location didn't seem as if it would reveal any indication as to Jason's whereabouts.  It looked much like the other tube and bus stations that she and James had combed over the last few days - with both the ceiling and floor tiled with the same small, white squares and the walls nearly suffocated with advertising posters, Poppy found absolutely nothing that drew her attention or raised her awareness.  Mentally drawing back in distaste from the cold sensations that her Powers drew from the atmosphere, she leaned into James for comfort.

James glanced at Poppy, and reached his arm around her shoulders to give her a brief hug.  _Everything all right?_

Poppy nodded up to him.  _Yes, I just don't like the station very much – doesn't it feel cold to you?_

Smiling indulgently, James gave Poppy a brief squeeze.  _I suppose so, yes.  But don't let it distract you too much, kiddo.  We have a lot of work to do today._

Grumbling slightly, Poppy was forced to admit that he was right.  Whether she liked it or not, she would just have to tolerate the cold lights and impersonal feel to tubes – they never knew when they'd stumble upon a clue.  It was the gritty part of their work, and although it wasn't the most fun, it was arguably the most important.

***

Several hours later, Poppy was beginning to feel her legendary stubbornness surface amidst her frustrations.  Having made their way from the High Street Kensington Station to Notting Hill, Queensway, and Lancaster Gate, she and James had agreed to pass up Marble Arch and continue on to Oxford Circus, where they would have the option of checking out other routes.  Leaning back in her seat, Poppy thrust out her telepathy powers, expanding her awareness to encompass a radius of approximately two miles.  Letting her mind determinedly sift through and sort the thoughts and images that she received, she channeled her energy into searching for a clue . . . any clue.  

James looked over at Poppy and was glad to see that she was staying on top of things.  He'd been worried earlier when he'd caught her train of thought about how slowly the case was coming along.  It was true that this situation had been anything but routine from the beginning, but he didn't want her losing her concentration and focus as a result.  Granted, he admitted to himself, he'd felt a similar frustration at the last two stops – searching public venues in London for sign of a missing agent was akin to searching for a needle in a haystack.  Still, even though it was difficult to see, they _were_ making progress, and with every location they visited, they had fewer places to ask about and even fewer to examine.  

Hearing the conductor's scratchy voice over the intercom, James nudged Poppy out of her trance and took her hand, pulling her up with him as he moved to go.  As they exited the doors into their destination, Poppy gasped and nearly collapsed against him.  Startled, James caught her.

_Poppy, are you okay?_

Her voice was faint in his head when she responded.  _Yes . . . I think so.  I just need to sit down._

Easily taking on her weight, James quickly maneuvered through the crowd, locating a bench and setting her down on it.  He kneeled before her, looking up into her face.

_What happened?_

Poppy shook her head, her red curls tumbling over her shoulders with her movement.  _I don't know, I felt fine after you brought me out of my search, but as soon as I got out of the tube, I . . . I just saw white light and I felt so dizzy._

His heart beating faster than he would've liked to admit, he rubbed her hands and looked into her eyes, casting out his own senses to see if he could find whatever it was that had been threatening her.  Unable to find anything, he let his mind trace her own, initiating their connection and giving her a little of his power to calm her.

Sighing shakily, she brushed her curls out of her hair and looked around.  _ I'll be okay, just let me stop at a restroom.  Maybe I've just been working too hard lately.  We've been doing an awful lot._

Not buying her excuse for a moment, but unable to come up with an explanation of his own, James saw no choice but to acquiesce.  Standing, he drew her up to her feet and made to follow her.  Before he could, however, she turned and put her hand on his chest.

_It's okay, Jamie.  **Really**.  I just need to settle myself.  _

_I'm going to wait outside,_ he stubbornly declared.

Grumbling to herself, Poppy shrugged and made her way to one of the women's rooms, making sure that James stayed put right outside of the door.

_I wanted a soul mate, not a watchdog,_ she tossed out to him before scooting down the hallway.    

_You got both,_ he quipped back.

Chasing back a laugh, Poppy brought her mind to the present, going straight to one of the sinks and rinsing her face with water.  

She wasn't sure exactly what had happened to her as she'd exited the tube, but she didn't have such a good feeling about it.  For a moment, it felt as though her thoughts had been grabbed and her soul, well, _pulled_ out of her body.  

Rubbing her eyes with the soothing liquid, Poppy timidly sent her powers out around the station in an attempt to see if she could find what exactly had affected her so badly.  As she let her mind drift, she found nothing out of the ordinary: men, women, children, animals, and machines – everything seemed to be business as usual.  

Except . . . 

Except  . . . what _was_ that?  It was familiar . . . had she sensed it before?  It was a little point of light, just out of the corner of her eye.  So intent was she on the light, that she forgot to note the nausea and weakness that stole over her limbs again, or the instigation of a similar pulling sensation.  She was fascinated by the light.  

All of a sudden, she felt a solid, warm body crash itself against her own.  Bleary eyed, she looked up in confusion to see what had knocked her out of her trance.  Startled and unable to produce a response, she dumbly noted blonde hair and blue eyes.

"_Stupid_," Vanessa hissed at Poppy as she took a step back.  "You have no idea what you're involving yourself in, dear."  Looking down at Poppy's shaken form, she smiled ruefully.  "I do apologize for this."

Vanessa's fist heading towards her face was the last thing Poppy remembered. 

***

End Chapter III.

I know, I know.  It's positively evil of me to end on a cliffhanger after not updating for months.  Unfortunately, that's all that the characters gave me to work with for the time being.  Rest assured, though, I know exactly where I'm going with this and I think you'll be pleased.

Now that I've done my part, go and review!!


	4. Chapter IV

Author's Note:

So . . . when it rains, it pours.

I have no real explanation as to why I seem to go forever without updating, and then have a dash of inspiration that keeps me locked at the computer for hours. Maybe Poppy and James are just chatty with me right now. Either way, I have quickly labored to produce the next chapter. I hope that it meets with approval! The next update won't come nearly as quickly – I start school again on Monday and (unfortunately for this story) I'll have homework to keep me occupied.

In the meantime, however, I really REALLY appreciate all of the Chapter III reviews:

Pheonix: I'm so glad that my research has been on target so far and that it's working with my writing. You wouldn't believe how many maps and tour guide summaries I have lying around. It's part of the process though, and quite a lot of fun. If I ever make it to the U.K., I'm going to feel decidedly knowledgeable.

****

Aglaia di Willow: Don't worry; I already have storylines in place all the way to Thierry and Hannah. I won't start work on any of the others until I finish this one, though. I need to make sure I can keep following through with this chapter business.

Marie-Claire: Ah, my first real chastisement about my updating! I shall do my best to produce in a more timely fashion – especially now that it seems I've hooked quite a few of you. grin blushes Thank you so much for the compliment – you wouldn't believe how much that inspired me to keep writing at two this morning.

WoLfePaWs: I'm actually quite pleased that you found the first part of chapter three to be confusing – it was supposed to be. If you walked away thinking that our 'Master' is ever so slightly creepy, and somewhat powerful, then you're good to go for the rest of the story. All shall be explained in time rubs her hands together

Okay, onward to our heroes.

Enjoy!

**_

* * *

_**

**_In My Sight_**

By: EarthDragonette

Disclaimer: I am in no way trying to assert that I own or have control over any characters or ideas created by Lisa Jane Smith. All of the Nightworld characters and concepts are hers, but all of the _original_ characters are mine. I'm not trying to make a cent off of this story.

I also am in no way affiliated with the Milestone Hotel Kensington. I'm only making use of it because it seemed to be the kind of hotel that Thierry would want his agents to stay in due to safety and such, and I just couldn't resist the scene it provoked.

Rating: PG-13 for now, possibly R in later chapters.

* * *

Christopher Walker shuffled down the street after school, loosening his tie and grumbling about the low score that he'd received on his latest algebra test. His father had warned him that if his marks didn't start to come up in mathematics, then his entertainment systems would be taken away for a month. Unlike other well-run and much superior British households (as far as Christopher was concerned, anyway), his mother would be no help in returning his Final Fantasy games in a more timely fashion; she always sided with his father when it came to punishment.

"A whole bloody month," he mumbled, scowling at the teacher's scrawl on the sheet.

Passing by his favorite sweet shop and nodding grumpily to the owner's cheerful face through the window, Christopher reached the intersection that would lead him to his street.

And yet . . .

He didn't _really_ have to go home right away, did he? After all, his father would probably just yell at him and go on and on about his rapidly dimming future. Besides, there were other places for a twelve-year-old boy to amuse himself in the late afternoon hours.

Say, that alley for example.

* * *

"Poppy? Poppy! Come on, Poppy. Wake up."

Gasping against the fierce pain raging through her head, Poppy felt herself return to consciousness. Using all of her will, she managed to open her eyes a crack and look up into James' worried face. She went to reach for their connection, but James stopped her.

"Don't," he whispered fiercely, before she could complete the thought. "Don't use the connection or any of your powers. Just, just lie there for a minute and let me think." Gathering her up in his arms and heaving a shuddering sigh, he held her close for a moment, thankful that he had been of a mind to keep their connection open while she went to the women's room; James was usually discreet enough to allow her a measure of privacy for such activities. He'd been suspicious after her earlier collapse, however, and thus decided that an extra measure of security wouldn't be uncalled for.

He couldn't bear to think about what could've happened if he hadn't. The shock of seeing Vanessa through Poppy's mind had been almost as potent as the reverberations from her right hook. By the time that James had torn down the hallway to find Poppy's small form crumpled on the floor, the young woman had gone, and James was too preoccupied to try to track her scent amongst the almost endless number already present.

Now, unbearably relieved to find Poppy alive, if somewhat incapacitated, his thoughts turned to how to get them out of the station and back to the hotel without attracting too much attention. Feeling an overwhelming sense of protectiveness come over him, he determined that there was absolutely no way that Poppy would walk on her own. As such, he noted to himself as he looked around the room, he needed to move quickly – he didn't want to be in the room when an innocent commuter stopped by. Easily scooping Poppy up in his arms, he stealthily dashed back down the hallway and into the main section of the underground station. His eyes darting back and forth, they finally lit on an emergency exit door. Noticing that it was hooked up to an alarm system, he easily cut off the electric charge, using one of the numerous telekinetic tricks that he'd learned in Circle Daybreak training. Slipping through the door and making his way down a stairwell, he fervently hoped that his daytime roof hopping would go unnoticed by most of the city below.

It was dark when Poppy awoke, and for that she was decidedly thankful. She couldn't remember ever having had such a terrible headache, and she knew instinctively that any light – however dim – would wreck immeasurable havoc on her body. Coughing to clear the sleep from her throat, she gently reached up to feel her head, and noted a cool washcloth. Smiling at James' thoughtfulness, she paused to try to remember how she'd been returned to their room. Unable to recall any sort of action on her part, she realized that James must've taken it upon himself to bring her back, most likely on his own.

_Well, that's not really fair_, she thought to herself, gently easing her protesting body up into a sitting position and placing the washcloth on the bedside table. _We're both agents here, and it's not right for him to be doing all of the work._

Moving to get up, she felt a wave of nausea hit her and decided that a healing charm . . . or ten wouldn't hurt. Opening the nightstand drawer and fumbling around, she pushed her beloved Oreos aside and produced a cloth bag. Opening it, she finally managed to extricate a chunk of amber.

"Better than Tylenol," she murmured, mentally reining in positive energy to her head through the stone. After a few moments, the nausea and aches receded a bit, and Poppy felt well enough to stand and make her way out to find James.

* * *

"I don't like this James. I don't like this at all. You're absolutely positive that they were psychic attacks?"

"I couldn't be more sure if I'd had them myself, Thierry," James responded, curling his right hand into a fist in agitation. "She had all of the symptoms – fear, nervous exhaustion, and she was completely drained physically – she collapsed against me twice. Also . . . " here James paused as if unsure.

"Yes?" Thierry asked gently, leaning forward in his chair as if he'd like nothing more than to come through the view screen.

James sighed. "She has bruises all up and down her back – almost as if she'd been trampled by a deer. Except, they're not normal. They wouldn't heal – even with her vampire powers or the potions and salves that the Harmans gave us before we left. They also don't seem to hurt her."

Thierry was quiet for a moment, tapping his pen against his upper lip. Finally, he looked up at James. "It doesn't fit, though. Psychic attacks with those kinds of results have to be carried out over weeks, or even months. I've _never_ heard of somebody suffering so quickly or so drastically." He sank back into his chair and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "At least . . . tell me that you weren't seen?"

James ran his hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "Well, I have some good news and some bad news about that. No, we weren't seen – even though I was forced to take a rather direct route back to our hotel from Soho. The bad news, at least, I think it could be bad – is that there wasn't anyone around _to_ see us. At least, not in the women's room. Thierry," James asked, his tone dripping with irony, "How likely is it for a tube station connecting the Central, Bakerloo, Waterloo and City lines to have an empty women's bathroom on a Friday afternoon?"

"Not very." Poppy's voice drifted through the doorway as she slowly made her way to the conference table to perch next to James. Worry etched in deep lines on his forehead, his eyes traveled up and down her body, checking her injuries. Satisfied for the moment, he carefully draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her next to him, squeezing her gently.

"Poppy, I'm glad you're up. James was filling me in on your little adventure. How does your head feel? It looks as though our mysterious blonde has some strength in her."

Poppy leaned against James and grinned wryly at Thierry. "No kidding. I think my ancestors felt that punch – I haven't been hit like that since training." She shut her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I feel no real worse for the wear now, but I don't exactly understand what happened to me. One minute I was washing my face and using my power to check out the perimeter to see what caused me to lose my balance the first time, and then I was . . ." she stopped for a moment, as if remembering something. "There was light," she finally said, opening her eyes to glance first at James, then Thierry. "There was this tiny point of white light, and I think it may have been something that I saw the first time, too. And then I just . . . whatchamacallit . . . maybe lost myself?" She shook her head. "Anyway, I remember feeling nothing at the time, but in retrospect I was nauseous and disoriented. Then, right when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Vanessa came and, well, you know." She gestured to her forehead. "That's all I remember."

Both parties were silent for a few moments, each individual thinking his or own her thoughts, trying to untie the mysterious happenings of late. James ran his fingers up and down Poppy's back, waiting expectantly for Thierry's instructions. Finally, the former Lord spoke.

"Okay, this is what we have: a missing Daybreak agent, a relatively quiet club scene, a mysterious woman that seems to indicate some great danger, and two attacks on Poppy while she was using her psychic abilities around Soho." Here, Thierry began to write notes on the pad in front of him. "This situation is way above your heads," here he cut off Poppy's protest. "It is. Look at yourself, Poppy – you and James need help. I'm sending Rashel and Quinn out on the next flight to London – they should be there by midday tomorrow at the latest. I'd send them on my own plane, but I don't want to attract more attention then you seem to have already drawn. I'm also going to make some phone calls to the British faction – we'll see if we can get some movement on their side without our diplomatic ambassador." Looking up, he continued, "I don't know exactly what you're dealing with, but I'll to try to find out. In the meantime, I'll also keep our people researching Vanessa and her whereabouts – I should have some more information for you by tomorrow morning. In the meantime," he concluded, closing his notebook with a snap and moving to stand up, "I want you to stay in the hotel. Don't leave for any reason until your backup arrives."

James sighed, hating the feeling of being barricaded in enemy territory. All of his instincts told him that he should just take Poppy and get as far away from London as possible.

"I know how you feel, James. But, this really is the best for now – there's obviously something horribly wrong going on over there and you two are my best agents. Just try to lay low," he moved to turn off the phone. "Oh, and Poppy, try not to use your powers unless you're around the Harman wards – they should shield you from any other attacks." After a moment, the screen went black, leaving the two alone.

* * *

Poppy woke in the middle of the night, her heart pounding furiously in her ears. She couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming, but she knew deep in her heart that it had been unpleasant. Shifting uncomfortably, she felt James stir beside her, his arm sneaking around to pull her against his long frame. She lay still for long moments, trying to calm her mind so that she could return to sleep – although she no longer suffered physical effects from her attacks earlier (with the exception of the marks on her back that had yet to go away), she still felt rather drained. She was just about to drift off when she heard it.

A window was being opened in the living room.

After a brief moment of fluttering fear, her mind coolly took over her actions. Remaining perfectly still, she reached for James through their connection, quickly drawing him out of sleep. He woke immediately, his reflexes charged and unhindered by grogginess.

_James -- the window. Somebody's here. Three somebodies, actually . . . I sense werewolves._

_Can you fight?_

_I'm okay._

Their exchange conducted in a handful of seconds, he tossed an acknowledgment at her as he rolled out of bed and reached under the mattress for his silver daggers. On her side of the room, Poppy did the same, crouching down low so that she could remain hidden while she kept her eyes on the doorway. Although she could make an effort to communicate with James through their link, they had long ago discovered that their fighting was generally in synch as their individual bodies and minds effortlessly picked upon the intentions of the other. As such, Poppy had found it most efficient to surrender herself to instinct and reflex.

Just as she was beginning to get antsy, she saw the door to their room slowly open, and a tall, scruffy shadow enter the room. Springing from her crouch to slam against the door, she shut out the other two intruders, sensing James follow behind her to tackle the werewolf. Bracing her weight against the door, she watched the lamia drive the dagger between the wolf's shoulder blades, the death howl absorbed by the thick carpet. Although the other occupants of the hotel would remain deaf to the night's activities, the other attackers were more than alerted to the success, and the resulting rage added to their strength as they forced themselves against the bedroom door.

Feeling instinctively that James was ready for another attack, she launched herself away from the door, causing the werewolves to fall inside of the room. Turning quickly, she pulled the first off of the other, using his surprise to her advantage and locking him in a tight hold. Closing her mind off to the finality of the act, as she had been taught, she drew the knife across his throat, cutting the vital veins before throwing him away from her. James quickly finished off the second, using a similar move from before and tossing the body on top of the other.

Breathing harshly, James listened carefully for sounds of further intrusion, and Poppy furiously cast her mind out to sense out any other assailants. After a few moments, they both acknowledged that the coast seemed to be clear for the time being.

"You didn't keep yours as a captive," Poppy pointed out, knowing James' rationale but needing to hear another physical sound to separate herself from the death that she had been forced to inflict.

He turned to the first werewolf that had entered the room and kicked its collar with his foot. "Magic. I'll bet that if he'd tried to change back, much less answer our questions, he would've died anyway. This was almost a suicide mission." Leaving the body behind, he clasped Poppy's hand and led her out of the room, closing the door behind them and then dragging her up against him into a hug – he knew that killing was still difficult for her, despite her training.

After a moment or two, James felt her chaotic thoughts settle to a dull roar, and reason began to take over. _Jamie . . . this place is protected with Harman magic, and several human guards down below. How did they get in?_

Looking around, his brow furrowed in thought, James fought to keep the small pins of panic from setting in. The human guards were easy enough to take care of – that wasn't the problem. But, if **Harman** wards couldn't protect Poppy and him from whatever it was that was after them . . . how could they possibly stand a chance?

Unless . . .

_Poppy, can you check the perimeter? Are the wards even still there?_

Shock filling her eyes, Poppy almost mechanically reached out her senses, already knowing what she would find.

Or not find, as the case would be.

_James, the wards are gone. Not even a trace . . . not a hint . . . there isn't anything there. _

Within a matter of seconds, James had opened his cell phone, making a direct call to Thierry. If the wards had indeed been destroyed, and their movements were being watched that closely, there was no use in trying to be covert – now was the time for action.

"James?" Thierry's somewhat puzzled voice questioned over the phone.

"We've got a problem."

James could picture the furrow of Thierry's brow and the way the Lord's posture would have changed to alertness. "What happened?"

"Three werewolves happened. I don't know how, but they broke through the wards and attacked us while we slept."

After a momentary pause, Thierry asked, "_Just_ three of them?"

Catching on, James acknowledged, "Yeah. This wasn't meant as an assassination – it was meant to root us out." Here James glanced at Poppy, who was (to his pride) gathering up the corpses in the middle of the living room, wrinkling her nose to try to evade the stench.

After another brief silence, Thierry responded, "Okay. This obviously calls for another evaluation of our strategy. I can't change our plans with Quinn and Rashel – they're already en route. What I _will_ do, however, is send in Lupe and a backup team of fighters in one of our jets."

Backup. More people. More people to protect _Poppy_. "When will they be here?"

"They'll leave within the hour and should be there sometime around eight this evening, your time. I'm not going to fly them into London City – too much red tape to cut through. Instead, I'll use an airfield in Surrey. If all goes well, we should have all of you together tonight."

"What do we do until then?" Done with the werewolves for the time being, Poppy came behind James, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her forehead on his back.

Thierry sighed. "I was really hoping to not involve you in the politics until after we'd found out what happened to Jason, but we just can't afford to wait any longer. I'm going to call in to Circle Daybreak England. They'll help you dispose of the bodies, and get you to something a little safer."

"Safer?" James echoed, looking around what he once thought was an impenetrable fortress.

"Well, if something DOES happen, we won't have to keep hiding bodies."

Shaking his head, James hung up the phone and turned to Poppy's questioning gaze. _What's up, Jamie?  
  
_

After a visit from the cleaners . . . _We're leaving._

_

* * *

_

End Chapter IV.

Okay, so we now have a slightly different ending, but it's a LOT easier to work with, and I think it makes more sense.

On to Chapter V!


	5. Chapter V

::hides behind her three-month-old nephew::

::peers out from behind his tiny, fragile (yet nicely protective) body::

Hi guys!

I know . . . I know. When it comes to updating, I suck at life. But it's here now! See? Lots of story-ness for you! And, I have some other things in the works that will hopefully be published as an additional supplication. I really do apologize for not updating in, um . . . six months or so. I swear, this story is going to be finished. I have the entire thing planned out; it's just a matter of sitting down and actually doing it. But, it's updated now, and I will (as usual) endeavor to make said updates happen more quickly.

Before you read this chapter, you should reread Chapter IV. I ended up going back and making some changes to the end so it would fit in better with what I wanted to happen this chapter.

That being said, enjoy!

**_

* * *

_**

**_In My Sight_**

By: EarthDragonette

Disclaimer: I am in no way trying to assert that I own or have control over any characters or ideas created by Lisa Jane Smith. All of the Nightworld characters and concepts are hers, but all of the _original_ characters are mine. I'm not trying to make a cent off of this story.

I also am in no way affiliated with the Milestone Hotel Kensington. I'm only making use of it because it seemed to be the kind of hotel that Thierry would want his agents to stay in due to safety and such, and I just couldn't resist the scene it provoked.

Rating: PG-13 for now, possibly R in later chapters.

* * *

"Three little wolfies went out to play . . ."

The owner of the voice lifted three werewolf figurines one by one and dragged them across a tabletop, appreciating the scratching noise that they made.

"But they all got caught and died the same day . . ."

Here, each figure was knocked down somewhat forcefully, producing a high-pitched thud in the large, wooden room.

"And now the two little vampires are running away . . ."

New figurines, one with coppery red hair and another with wavy, dark tresses, appeared in the manipulator's left hand.

"But I'll catch you, and kill you the very same day."

Clenching his fist convulsively, the two figurines crumbled. Beaming to himself, the Master adjusted the werewolf figurines to the same position as they were originally, checking the box next to him to be sure that he had more vampire ones left.

Smiling, he began again. "Three little wolfies went out to play . . ."

* * *

James had to give the British Daybreakers credit. No more than ten minutes after hanging up with Thierry, there was a firm knock on the door of their suite.

Placing a hand on Poppy's shoulder as she moved to answer it, he inclined his head toward a spot just behind where the door would open.

_Just wait there_, he instructed, softly gliding to the door. _I know you don't sense anything wrong about the people on the other side, but I'm not in the mood to take chances._

Feeling her agreement, James peered out of the peephole, cautiously taking in the sight of fifteen teenagers standing in the hallway with large duffel bags. Scanning their apparel for concealed weapons, his trained eye quickly found signs of hidden knives and, on one of the larger youths, what appeared to be a wooden katana.

_Well, I have good news and bad news, _James declared.

_What is it? Give me the good news first._

_The good news is_, he informed her, _if these guys are Daybreakers, we're going to be awfully well protected._

_And the bad . . .? _

_If they're unfriendly, I really hope you have some extra powers that you never told me about._

_Wouldn't **you** like to know? _She quipped.

Blocking off the rather provocative image that flashed through his mind, James cleared his throat and attended to the youths. Glancing through the peephole again, he began to check for the sign that would confirm their identities.

Back when the resurgence of Circle Daybreak was still confined to vague rumors and whispers in dark corners, the Elders decided there was a need for a method of identification between members – something that couldn't be damaged, destroyed, changed, stolen, or replicated. This was especially important for the spies, as their numbers were few. Although there would always be the threat of treachery within the ranks, anything that could be done to lend greater safety was eagerly sought after.

The Council met for days to argue and discuss the possibilities, spending several hours searching for obscure words or codes that would be safe from the Nightworld and its countless agents and spies. After over a week of discussion, when all hope for reasonable and peaceful discussion seemed lost, it was the Maiden who provided the much sought-after answer.

_"But the Nightworld has remained relatively ignorant of human activities," Mother Cybele argued, directing her comments at Lord Wyden, the leader of the aquatic shape shifters. "Surely there are some lesser known documents or references that we could use."_

_"Some of it has," Thierry admitted, coming in to break the peace. "But there are still others, very powerful individuals within the Nightworld ranks, that make it their business to know about those obscure references."_

_"This is true," the Crone remarked, raising her fingers to rub her tired temples. "We forget that the survival of the Nightworld has long depended upon the ability of its members to blend in with normal life."_

_"Not **all** of us live on isolated islands, you know," Lord Wyden couldn't help but remark._

_Offended, Mother Cybele moved to defend her point once again, but before she could open her mouth –_

_"I have a suggestion."_

_The Council quickly quieted and looked towards the end of the table toward a slim girl with a clear gaze. Aware that she had the attention of the Circle's Elders, she stood and walked to the Crone, carrying a small, silver object in her palm. Standing before Grandmother Harman, Aradia let the object pool from her hand to the Grandmother's._

_Understanding lit the wise woman's eyes as she felt the blend of power behind the object._

_"What is it?" Nana Buruku demanded._

_Smiling, Grandmother Harman turned to the Council members. "The Maiden has solved our problem. We shall not use words or codes to identify one another, but rather, markers." Glancing down into her old hands, she elaborated: "Jewelry."_

_"But we already discussed that," Nana interjected. "We decided that it would be too easy to replicate."_

_"Not if I place my mark on it," Aradia explained. "If I mark whatever it is that our agents use to identify themselves, and they are taught to recognize the sign of the Maiden, then there should be no problem with meeting unfamiliar Daybreaker members. I can also spell it so that particular articles of jewelry will only reveal the sign for particular people. This way, they cannot be stolen or used by any other than for whom the article was intended." _

_"It is often the young that see the clear solutions to problems," the Crone remarked._

"Let me see your signs," James instructed through the door. At this, a tall, blonde haired vampire who appeared to be the leader lifted a silver chain from underneath his coat. Casting his senses over it, James was convinced that he felt Aradia's mark pulsing strongly from the chain. Similarly tossing his senses over the rest of the group, he felt the protection of the Maiden around them. Given that they weren't all innate traitors to Circle Daybreak, this group was as safe as it was going to get.

Unlocking the door, James stepped back and opened it, pulling Poppy gently to his side. "Sorry about the delay."

The leader, making his way in and dropping his duffel bag, tossed a grin at James. "No problem at all. I understand that you've had a most eventful night. I'm Jeremy," he stated, extending his hand. "You must be James and Poppy."

Greeting him, Poppy was surprised when his dark blue eyes lit on her, the dimple in his left cheek becoming more pronounced as he declared, subtly, that he was most delighted to meet her.

The blush that came to her cheeks only deepened when she felt James tense beside her. "Yes, I'm James, and this is my soulmate, Poppy."

Chuckling, he tossed her a wink before patting James on the back. "Quite right," he chirped. "Now, where are the werewolves?"

* * *

Settled next to Poppy in the backseat of a white, nondescript station wagon, James was forced to admit that although he couldn't say that he liked Jeremy, the cleanup crew was incredibly efficient at setting the hotel room to rights and disposing of the three bodies. After less than half an hour, the carpets had been cleaned, the suite aired out, and, remarkably, an exact replica of a table had been brought in to replace one that was broken during the fight.

When Poppy had turned her wide-eyed gaze on the table in amazement, Adele, a young, dark haired girl that had introduced herself as being "the rediscovered witch from Oxfordshire," had only chuckled and remarked, "Our beaver shape-shifters really like to build things."

Finished packing their items, Poppy and James made their way down the hall to the elevator and out to the parking lot – the Daybreak group serving as an entourage the entire way. Having already sent a representative downstairs to alert the Kensington management that they would be departing early, James left the bill details to Thierry (not an unusual request at the Milestone Hotel Kensington) and concerned himself only with getting Poppy safely into the vehicle that was parked outside.

Settling back into the seat, James felt an odd mixture or relief and worry. On one hand, he was happy to be out of the hotel room as what had once been a solid fortress had mysteriously become as secure as an open-air field. On the other hand, however, the very act of running gave him a montage of mixed feelings.

_I hate not staying and fighting_, he thought, putting his arm around Poppy's shoulders and pulling her to nestle against his right side. _ I hate feeling that we're prey – that something is hunting us._

Catching a sense of what he was feeling, Poppy shut her eyes, nestling her head under James's neck and remarked: _We couldn't have stayed there, Jamie._

_I know . . . I just . . ._

_You don't like that people are after us. I know._

_It's hard enough being the hunter – he began._

_It's even harder to be the hunted, too_, she concluded. _But, with luck on our side, we won't need to worry about things for a day or so. We'll get to the Daybreak house, and wait for backup. Then we can see about finding what's after us._

Here James froze, a horrifying thought occurring to him. What if they weren't hunting the two of them – not really? What if they were just after Poppy? Here, his arm jerked against her reflexively, and his hand, which had previously been linked with Poppy's as she played one of her favorite games of twisting them together in different ways, clenched hers tightly.

Poppy's eyes snapped open and she turned to look at him. _Jamie, what –_

_Don't,_ he thought_. Don't use your powers. We were meant to be rooted out of the hotel room . . . we were meant to be unprotected. If they're going after you, they're going to try another psychic attack. Don't give them more of an advantage than they already have._

Her brow furrowed and her green eyes filled with chaotic emotion, Poppy eventually managed a nod before settling her head back on to his shoulder, feeling somewhat empty and alone without being able to tap into their soulmate link or her psychic powers. She hadn't realized how natural they had become to her over the months of training – how she had begun to exist on the astral and earthly level, always scanning with her mind as well as her eyes. To not give into them almost left her deaf, and she was incredibly not comfortable with the situation.

_At least I can still think to **myself**,_ she mused, watching as the city gave way to lesser-crowded areas. To distract herself, she asked Jeremy, "So, where are we going?"

Turning from the passenger seat that was, to Poppy's highly Americanized mind, on the wrong side of the car, Jeremy pointed to a nearby sign. "Chelmsford, in Essex. We wanted to get you out of the city, and it's one of our better protected bases."

"One of them?" James asked, unable to keep the suspicious tone out of his voice.

"We have several," Sienna, a blonde made-vampire, informed from the driver's seat, trying to keep the testosterone levels from getting too agitated. "Although we don't have as much contact with the North American or Asian groups of Circle Daybreak, we're rather well networked internally. It's very easy to get from one safe house to another."

"Won't . . .won't taking us into a small town make us more noticeable?" Poppy asked, a slight hesitancy in her voice.

Jeremy shook his head. "Chelmsford isn't that small, actually. You Yanks always seem to think that the British only have one big city surrounded by white-washed villages." Ignoring Poppy's snort, he continued, "Chelmsford is right in the center of Essex, and has over a hundred thousand people. Plus, it's tourist season, so you should blend in splendidly."

"I don't want to play tourist," James grit out. "I want to keep **my soulmate**, and myself, alive." The former was emphasized for Jeremy's benefit – James still didn't like the way the young man was looking at Poppy.

"And we'll certainly do that," Sienna assured, giving Jeremy a sideways look filled with frustration and warning. "You can stay barricaded inside of the house if that's what you like. We're only trying to help."

Choosing to leave the subject entirely – she'd had a really good feeling about Sienna, and as long as the blonde vampire was involved in the protection, Poppy was prepared to give over all of her trust. Clearing her throat, she asked, "So how long have you been a part of Circle Daybreak?"

Smiling her thanks to Poppy for diffusing the situation, Sienna answered, "I've been involved for a few months, now. I used to live on one of the enclaves in the Mediterranean. My family actually originates from the early 1900's – we were changed into vampires so we would provide better labor for a longer amount of time."

"You were made into a vampire at the turn of the century?" Poppy asked – fascinated to hear the story of another person who had made the change.

Sienna nodded. "Yes, on the Fall Equinox, no less. My father, mother, and two older brothers were all made to undergo the process." Here her face darkened, "My parents and one of my older brothers didn't survive."

Poppy recalled a conversation over a year ago: _"There's another thing you should know," James was saying. "A certain percentage of people don't make it."_

_"Don't make it?"_

_"Through the change. People over twenty almost never do. They don't ever wake up. Their bodies can't adjust to the new form and they burn out. Teenagers usually live through it, but not always."_

"They made your parents undergo the change? Even when they knew it wouldn't work?" Poppy gasped, her voice full of horror.

Sienna's face was grim as she turned off the road on to an exit, still heading northeast. "It was a "necessary expense" as far as our Master was concerned. Humans were easy to come by and the prospect of having loyal servants throughout the centuries who were strong, quick, and who easily healed was too much of an opportunity to pass up."

"But . . ." Poppy sputtered. "I thought there were laws in effect to keep that from happening. Laws so that not just anybody could be made into a vampire."

"There are," James quietly informed. She could hear his distress in his voice, and feel it vibrating through their connection. "But they aren't to protect the humans – they're made to keep the Nightworld safe."

Understanding dawned on her, and Poppy couldn't help but shudder. "So . . . as long as the change coincides with helping the Nightworld to prosper . . ."

"And it doesn't break any of the rules of confidentiality, or of emotional attachment," James added, casting a meaningful look in Poppy's direction.

"Then you have slaves for every new generation of Nightworld nobility." Jeremy concluded, breaking his long silence. Poppy was surprised to hear a high level of disgust in his voice.

Leaning back into James's frame, Poppy had to take a minute to process what she'd just heard. Although she knew that James changing her had been against the Nightworld law – as the Council hadn't approved it beforehand, and he was in love with her, and even though she'd been a lost witch they'd all thought she was 'vermin' . . . she'd never realized the circumstances of others who had undergone the change. It was odd to think of the transition as being forced, instead of desired – a cage, instead of a way to survive.

Looking up at Sienna, she couldn't help but ask, "Is it awful for you? To be alive when your family isn't? When you technically shouldn't be?" Poppy had yet to really admit it to herself, but she knew that, unconsciously, she often wondered the same thing about herself.

Sienna was silent, keeping her eyes on the road. To Poppy's surprise, Jeremy reached over and rubbed the blonde's shoulder, receiving a grateful look from the woman. After another minute or so, she responded, "Some days are easier than others. After my brother and I made our escape, we weren't sure where we could go – we were high profile characters given whom our Masters had been. After a few months, we stumbled across Circle Daybreak whilst trying to purchase some Harman spells to protect our flat." Here, she gave Jeremy a smile. "We've been with the organization ever since."

Slightly confused, Poppy couldn't help but ask, "Jeremy? Why are you with Circle Daybreak?"

Here he gave Poppy a grin and tilted his head toward Sienna. "I go where my sister does."

* * *

The drive to the safe house continued rather uneventfully. Given the late hour, the roads were practically deserted, and after the initial spurt of conversation, the car had drifted into silence. Suddenly chilled, Poppy snuggled against James for warmth and then turned to look out the window as one highway shifted to another. She kept thinking about her earlier psychic attacks, and wished that she knew why somebody was targeting her. Although she had learned to defend and attack enemies using her abilities, she had never been the victim of such power and intensity before. Although she hated to admit it, she had been extremely proud of her telepathic prowess when she'd first been made a vampire – it had been something that a lot of the other agents in training couldn't match. After meeting such exceptional fighters like Quinn and Rashel, or exceptional witches like Thea . . . Poppy had needed some thing, some skill that would set her apart.

As much as she rejoiced in being James's soulmate, she refused to let her existence be defined by it. She had never felt so empowered than the first time she had walked into a room and the whispers had been about how she was The-Amazingly-Strong-Telepath-Girl instead of That-Human-James-Rasmussen-Had-Fallen-In-Love-With-And-Saved-From-Dying-What's-Wrong-With-Redferns-These-Days-Anyway-Girl. Now that she was faced with not just a stronger telepath, but also a stronger telepath that wanted to kill her, Poppy was feeling decidedly contrary.

_I don't see why people need to be so competitive, anyway,_ she thought, burrowing against James even more as she felt the temperature drop again in the car.

Sighing to herself, she glanced up at James and wished she knew what he was thinking. Not only was she annoyed at being cut off from him, but she was also worried about the furrow forming on his forehead as he stared out the window, his right hand gently rubbing her shoulder as he mused.

Why is it getting so cold in here? She wondered, looking around the car. Although the windows didn't show it, and the others didn't seem to mind, Poppy could feel the goose bumps breaking out on her skin by the moment.

Returning her attention to James, she resisted the urge to amuse him by sending a humorous mental image of Ash dressed as Little Bo Peep – something she had done back when training had become monotonous or taxing – and instead settled for nudging him with her nose and raising her eyebrows.

Understanding, he thought back to her: _It's nothing, I'm just thinking._

Poppy arched her eyebrow.

_Brooding,_ he corrected.

Poppy nodded.

James sighed and hugged her. _It's nothing new, just . . . the Nightworld bothers me. This entire trip bothers me. Jeremy bothers me. Not being able to talk with you bothers me._

About to break his rule of no communication for the sake of sending him a thought overfilling with love, Poppy suddenly felt her temples explode in white-hot pain, dots fluttering behind her closed eyelids as she fell forwards, her control over her body completely escaping her.

"Poppy!" James shouted, quickly moving to catch her as she fell forward.

Startled, Sienna jerked the steering wheel, nearly driving the car off the side of the road into some trees. "What the bloody hell is going on back there?!" Jeremy snarled, his senses reeling from the panic.

* * *

Poppy was completely blind and deaf to the world around her.

_Oh, thisisbadthisisbadthisisbad . . ._ Poppy thought to herself, gritting her teeth while tears spilled out of her eyes. Although she had no control over her physical self, her mental abilities had begun to adjust to the attacks, and as such she was having some success with fending off this one. She couldn't begin to tell where it had come from, or who was doing it, but she wasn't completely overpowered by it, either.

She was just saturated with pain. This was even worse than the cancer.

Just then, almost as if the attacker had heard the dim comparison Poppy had made with her old illness, her stomach contracted and the sensation snuck toward her back.

_Positive thinking, positive thinking . . ._ she repeated to herself, desperately trying to rise above the agony to put up a defensive shield. She mentally cast off the emotional pain and trauma surrounding the familiar discomfort, instead focusing on fighting back.

_Come on, North. You can do this._

* * *

James had never been so utterly terrified.

Not when Poppy had almost been hit by a car when she was nine. Not when he felt her body changing as the cancer began to spread to her other organs. Not when she had told him she was going to die. Not when a training accident had her right arm impaled with six daggers. Not when she had been walking with him on a London subway had suddenly collapsed against him. Then, she had been conscious. Then, he had been able to reach her, or at least feel her through their soulmate link.

This was the first time in his memory that he had reached out to her, but had found nothing. Instead of the bright, emerald fire that poured forth energy and love, he felt a slick, oily darkness.

_PoppyPoppyPoppyPoppyPoppy . . ._ he kept calling with his mind, even as he held her, almost oblivious to Jeremy and Sienna. It actually wasn't until the other male vampire grabbed his shoulders and gave him a firm shake, that James's thoughts began to clear and reason began to slip back into his mind.

"What happened?!" Jeremy exploded, once James made eye contact with him.

"Another psychic attack," James murmured, still calling out for Poppy with his mind, but now calmly checking over her body, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach as he noticed the new bruises around her stomach, leading to her back.

"_Another_ one? This makes how many?" Sienna asked, finally resuming control of the car after Poppy's collapse, James's hysteria, and Jeremy's fumbled attempts to get into the backseat. James dimly noted that the car was going faster, now, the road and trees a mere blur outside of the window.

"Three," James answered, pushing Poppy's hair off of her forehead, desperately trying to think of something he could do to help her.

Turning the steering wheel violently as they arrived at a series of winding streets, Sienna remarked, "Well, for what it's worth, we're almost there. We can have our healers look at her once we get inside."

James only nodded, the panic in his heart never receding for a moment. Equally building, although his focus was so intent on Poppy that he almost didn't notice, was a powerful anger. As soon as he felt the car screech to a stop in front of a brick building, he gathered Poppy in his arms and resisted the urge to kick the door open, instead waiting impatiently for Sienna to help. Lurching out of the car and following Jeremy, he came to a dead stop at the front door, his mind completely unable to comprehend the figure he saw sitting on the stoop.

"Vanessa??"

Standing up as soon as she caught sight of them, she practically ran to where James was holding Poppy, reaching out her hand to the redheaded vampire in his arms. Startled, James pulled Poppy away from her, completely baffled and defensive. "What are you DOING here?"

Jogging up behind him, Sienna explained, "She's one of our strongest witches. Let her help, James."

Still suspicious, James forced himself to acquiesce, and followed Vanessa into the building. He took no note of the furniture or architecture as he walked by, only intent on doing whatever was necessary to save Poppy.

"You can stop calling out to her with your mind," Vanessa informed him as they entered a small bedroom in the back of the house. "She won't hear you."

"How do you know that?" James asked, gently laying Poppy on the bed.

Vanessa sighed, turning her sad, blue eyes towards him. "Because my brother's the one doing this to her, and I'm the only one that can get him to let go."

* * *

End Chapter V.

And parts of the story start to come together!!

But who is this villain?

And why does he like dolls?

All shall be answered in time.

And now, even though I don't deserve it, I humbly ask you to review – as it is reviews that keep me going (even if it takes six months).


	6. Chapter VI

Hello to all! See? I'm getting better at updating this story – it was only two months this time. O-o In my defense, I've been hard at work on an epic of sorts – perhaps you've seen my Mary-Lynnette and Ash fanfiction, For a Knight's Lady ? I'm almost ashamed to admit that it's taken the front burner in my creative life, but since it's being so well received, I can't feel too bad. ::grin:: 

But, **_In My Sight_** is my first love and it won't be forgotten. Here, as promised, is chapter six. I hope everybody enjoys it. You'll notice we've moved to a definitive PG-13 rating. The one act I could've put in this story to make it R has manifested itself in such a way that an upgrade in rating won't be necessary. Therefore, readers should be warned that there _is_ a rather overt reference to sex at the end of this chapter, but it's not graphic in any way, shape or form. Instead, I chose to focus on the act as being a mind/soul connection in very lyrical prose. If you find it offensive, let me know, and I'll push the rating up. Right now, though, my feeling is that it's something you'd see _in_ a PG-13 movie.

Anyway, with that out of the way, here are my thanks to reviewers who have stuck with me despite my rather . . . eccentric updating. I really appreciate it!

angel: That's quite the compliment! I'm sorry you had to wait so long for the update, but hopefully my other fic has kept you distracted ::grins::

Tracing Tanya: Don't worry, I have no intention of letting this story die. It would've received more attention this summer, except I got kind of enthralled with Ash. ::blush:: Thank-you for your wonderful comments, though, and I promise I'll keep updating.

scary miss mary: Er. . . at least two is better than six! :D At least rest in comfort knowing that I'm not updating due to laziness. Thanks for reviewing this story – you're such a voice of support on my other one, I'm really honored that you took the time to let me know your thoughts on this one, too.

amber-rules: James and Ash are definitely tough choices. Right now, my soul's sort of with our blonde, snarky vampire. Still, James _does_ look like James Dean . . . thank-you, as always, for your kind words.

Okay, and now on to the tardy chapter.

* * *

**_In My Sight_**

By: EarthDragonette

Disclaimer: I am in no way trying to assert that I own or have control over any characters or ideas created by Lisa Jane Smith. All of the Nightworld characters and concepts are hers, but all of the _original_ characters are mine. I'm not trying to make a cent off of this story.

Rating: PG-13

* * *

"The guy attacking Poppy," James said, his voice filled with disbelief. "He's your _brother?_"

"Yes," Vanessa replied, her voice abrupt as she bent over to examine Poppy, checking the young vampire's vital signs.

Remembering Vanessa's role in his soulmate's collapse at the tube station, James leapt over the bed and threw her against the wall. "You were helping him!" he snarled, holding her against the wall in an iron grip.

"I was trying to _save_ her – he can't connect with her if she's already unconscious," Vanessa rasped, feeling her airway cut-off by James's strength. "Look, I can't explain everything right now – it's too dangerous. But you have to trust me. If your girlfriend is going to have any kind of chance, I need to make a mind-to-mind connection with her."

Although desperate to find help for Poppy, James wanted answers before he let the blonde witch anywhere near his soulmate's mind. "Why is he doing this to her?"

Vanessa paused, seeming to weigh a number of answers in her mind. Finally, she settled on one.

"He thinks he doesn't have a choice."

James tightened his grip on her throat, still far too worked up to think about letting her go. "You're going to have to do better than that."

Now completely unable to breathe, Vanessa pawed at his arms. He may have continued to hold her in such a manner had he not heard a moan from the bed. Dropping Vanessa almost as quickly as he'd attacked her, James turned back to the bed, grasping on to one of Poppy's hands and gently stroking her riotous curls away from her face. "Poppy?"

Rubbing her neck and wincing at the bruises she could already feel forming, Vanessa coughed several times before she said, "My brother . . . is a very powerful witch. He's also attracted to strong sources of psychic energy. Your girlfriend is one of the strongest I've ever seen, so it's quite clear why he would go after her." Giving him a shrewd look, she added, "You're also a fairly strong telepath yourself, so he'd be drawn to any mental conversations that the two of you would engage in."

Giving her a glare, James snapped, "So you're brother's a kleptomaniac about psychic energy? _That's_ why he's trying to suck the life out of my soulmate?"

Vanessa hesitated, and James lost the rest of his patience. Standing up, his eyes were as hard as steel. "I am," he began, his voice deadly calm, "going to give you one more chance to tell me what the _hell_ is going on here. After that, I'm going to contact my boss and see that you're bound with Harman shackles until you decide to be helpful – I don't have time for you to be mysterious."

Apparently, the forcefulness of his voice and gaze were enough. Vanessa ran a hand through her hair and gave him a wary look before responding, "All right, then. I'll make this as quick as I can. What do you know of hybrids?"

James blinked. "You mean, like crosses between Nightworld people?"

Vanessa nodded. "Yes."

James shrugged. "Not much, just that the most intense combinations are between vampires and witches – like with the Redfern clan. It's what makes them so powerful."

Vanessa gave an ironic, dark smile. "Powerful, yes. But that's when things go well."

Irritated, James prompted, "What do you mean?"

Not liking the impatient look in his eyes, Vanessa hurriedly explained, "The Redfern clan, only having one instance of a cross between witches and lamia, just has powerful telepaths and spirited feminists. If you _keep_ mixing the races, though, things can go wrong."

"Vanessa, if you don't get to the point —"

"My brother's a psychic vampire," she confessed.

James blinked. "You mean he _feeds_ off of the energy of others?"

Vanessa nodded.

"But, I thought those were a myth – that the only way power could be transferred like that was through blood."

Vanessa shook her head. "No, energy is energy, no matter the form. Psychic vampires are very real – and my brother is a terribly powerful one."

Eyeing her warily, James asked, "Wouldn't that make you one, too?"

"Not necessarily," she responded, moving closer to Poppy. "I can easily absorb other people's energy, but I don't need to do so to say alive."

Glancing at Poppy and not liking her pale look, James made a split-second decision. "Fine. Help her. But if you end up hurting her even more, I can't predict what I'll do to you."

Vanessa swallowed heavily, feeling the pressure. "I can't promise anything, but if he senses me, there's a good chance that he'll let go of her and go after me."

James remembered the incident in the club. "That's why you ran out of the club the other night – he located you."

She nodded. "He goes through periods where he searches for me, but it takes a lot out of him so he needs to rest. That's when I can leave our headquarters and try to gather information on him. We don't know where he is, and I've not seen him in . . . some time."

"Why can he still hold on to Poppy if he can't track you here?"

"He attacked her before she arrived, so he already had a direct connection to her energy. This safe house is hidden from his searches, but it's not guarded against an ongoing attack." Turning to Poppy, she knelt down next to the bed. "I really can't answer anymore questions for you, James. I've got to help Poppy – or she won't have a chance. You're lucky she's still alive, after the kinds of attacks she's been through."

Although he still didn't like it, James nodded to her and leaned against the wall, preparing to wait.

* * *

Thankfully for Poppy, the pain had stopped some time ago, leaving her with an endless, numbing darkness. Since it was something that she was somewhat familiar with, given past medical procedures as well as the sleep James had put her under at the beginning of the Change, she found it slightly more comforting than the sensation of having her soul sucked out of her body.

_Still_, she thought to herself, _this is pretty boring. If something else is going to happen, I just wish it'd start soon._

More time passed, and some of the darkness receded enough so that she could feel parts of her psychic powers again. The first thing she instinctively reached for was the soulmate chord, and she felt intense shock and fear when she couldn't find it.

_Did something happen to James?_ she wondered, her worry becoming almost frenzied as she imagined a number of horrible scenarios involving the station wagon. _Maybe I got knocked out, and the car was overcome with Nightworld agents. Maybe whoeveritis that's doing this to me got **him**, too. Maybe –_

_I didn't do anything to him._

Poppy was stunned. A silky, sinister voice seemed to echo all around her, and she knew immediately that the voice belonged to whoever was doing this to her.

_Well, **that's** good to know_, she thought back. _You might be a bully, but at least you're focused._

_A bully?_

Poppy mentally sighed. _You know, a bully? Somebody that picks on weaker people because they can?_

_You're not weak._

_That's not really the point here_, Poppy pointed out, getting fed up with the conversation.

_You have a lot of power._

Not sure where the Voice was going with this, she said, _Well, yes. It sort of runs in my family._

_But you're thirsty. And you have power. Are you a mix, like me?_

_A mix?_ she echoed, somewhat confused.

_I'm thirsty, too,_ the Voice informed her. _But I don't like blood. It doesn't fix it._

Although she wasn't sure she really wanted to know, Poppy asked, _So . . . what does? _ __

_You help._

_Great . . . _she responded, feeling more creeped out by the second. After a few moments, she inquired, _So, uh, now what?_

_We're connected_, the voice said simply. _I can take your energy now and I won't feel thirsty. **This** is what I keep trying to do. _The generally silky tone turned somewhat sulky. _But you kept stopping me. You shouldn't have done that._

_Sorry about that, _Poppy quipped, her sarcasm brought in to hide her terror. _I generally like keeping **my** energy in **my**_ _body._

_That's too bad for you_, the Voice said.

Now taking control over some of her fear, Poppy began to get extremely annoyed. _You know what- _she began, before being interrupted by a new, feminine voice.

_Simon, you can't do this_.

_Simon? _Poppy projected. _That's your name? _

The Voice ignored her, and instead seemed entirely focused on the new entity that Poppy could now sense. _Vanessa? You're here?_

_I came to stop you, yes._

Getting more of a feel for the spirit, Poppy was disconcerted to realize that it was the Mysterious Blonde that had acquainted her fist with Poppy's face. _Oh, great_.

The woman's voice addressed Poppy: _Don't be afraid of me. I'm here to help. Poppy, try to search for your connection with James._

_He's okay?_ Poppy asked, feeling waves of relief shake through her.

_He's worried about you . . . and more than a little angry, but otherwise, yes, he's fine. Now, listen to me, you **must **__find the soulmate chord._

_But it's gone,_ Poppy protested. _I can't sense it – that's why I thought he was dead._

_It's not gone, Simon's just masking it. Please do as I say._

Figuring that she didn't have much of a choice, Poppy threw her weight behind her mind, pushing her senses as hard as she dared while scanning around her, trying to find a hint of a strong, silver chord.

While Poppy was scanning, Vanessa continued to speak with the Voice. _Simon, you can't keep doing this._

_I have to._

_No, you don't_, Vanessa replied. _There are other ways. If you let us, we can help you. _

**_Nobody can help me_**_._

Poppy winced at the volume, but to her surprise (and pleasure), as soon as Simon had finished shouting, his hold on her weakened considerably and she could feel just the barest hint of her connection with James. Grabbing on to it, she dimly felt her soulmate's joy and his own efforts to pull her back.

Although she was worried that Simon would notice her slipping away, the Voice seemed entirely focused on venting his rage at Vanessa. _Nobody will help me, Vanessa. Nobody. I am alone. I am alone. **Everybody left. **_

****

_They left because you killed them, Simon. You need to learn how to control yourself._

Even Poppy – who wasn't the most diplomatic of souls – had enough sense to know that Vanessa's reply would only incite her adversary even more.

_You're lying! _the Voice fumed, completely relinquishing his hold on Poppy and diving for Vanessa's soul.

Feeling an enormous wealth of sensations come back to her as she was freed, Poppy almost lost it completely when she felt James's mind touch hers. _I'm coming, Jamie_, she told him. Before she turned to grab on to the chord, though, she stopped. _Vanessa! Come on!_

_Go! _the young woman ordered. _Get out of here! I'll deal with this!_

Poppy couldn't believe what she was hearing. _What are you talking about? We can go together! Come on!_

_Poppy, you can't do anything for me. _

About to protest again, matters were completely taken out of her hands when James _yanked_ her back away from the darkness, pulling her soul through the astral and back into her body.

* * *

James had been watching both Poppy and Vanessa with a feverish expectancy when he finally felt his soulmate tentatively reach out to him. Once he'd sensed that Poppy was firmly attached to their connection, he pulled her out and away from wherever it was she'd been. It was only a matter of seconds before her body shuddered and she began to breathe in great, heaving gasps.

"Poppy! Poppy! Are you okay? Can you hear me?" He knelt down beside her bed, slipping his arm behind her so that he could cradle her against him.

She shook her head a few times, mumbling softly before opening her eyes. "Jamie?" she whispered.

Shaking slightly, James gathered her up against him and rocked back and forth slightly. "I didn't think you'd come back from that one," he whispered.

She coughed, trying to clear her throat. "It was a good possibility," she admitted. Looking around, she saw Vanessa's body, which remained seated in a poised meditation pose. "So it _was_ her," Poppy observed. She turned to James, her green eyes full of emotion. "She . . . saved me. She distracted Simon and I got away."

"Simon? Is that his name?"

"That's what she . . . called him. But, I think . . . she's _stuck_, James. I think she traded spots with me . . . so I could get out of there."

Seeing that Poppy looked exhausted, James lowered her down on to the bed. "I'll take care of it. Go to sleep – we can talk later."

"But, I want to help," Poppy protested, even as her eyelids fluttered shut.

"You can help _later_."

"But –"

_Sleep_, he commanded, adding a little bit of force behind his words so that she'd drop off into a healthy slumber. After taking a few minutes to reassure himself that her color was returning and that her breathing was deep and regular, he turned to the door. In the middle of Vanessa's intervention, the British Circle Daybreak agents had started to convene in the room to see what was going on. At the first light touch of Poppy's mind, however, James had chased them all out for fear of distracting the witch. Now that he was satisfied Poppy was safe, he opened the door to reveal a number of expectant faces. Sighing and running his hand through his dark hair, he announced, "We still have a big problem."

* * *

Sienna settled herself into the leather chair, casting her brown eyes around the den at the Daybreakers sprawled around the room. "So what do we do now?"

James leaned back against one of the couches, rubbing his face tiredly. He'd been posing the same question to himself in the hours since Poppy had been cut loose from Simon's hold, but he still wasn't entirely sure of the answer. Fortunately for him, he now had the United Kingdom's best Circle Daybreak agents, as well as Rashel and Quinn, helping him.

After Poppy had fallen asleep and James explained more or less what was going on, Sienna and Jeremy had ordered everybody to go and rest before any meetings were called or plans were made. By then, it had been a little after three in the morning, and even James was willing to admit that sleep would be the most helpful thing anybody could do. Jeremy had called some of the Circle Daybreak healers in to take a look at Poppy and Vanessa, and after they had confirmed Poppy's improving state of health and warned James that she would probably sleep for at least a day, James had moved her to another bedroom in the house where they could sleep in relative privacy during their stay.

Although he was normally an early riser, the past few days' events had taken their toll on him and he didn't wake up until a little after eleven. Poppy was still asleep when he rolled out of bed, and after checking to make sure she was resting well, he'd left her to go downstairs. It wasn't too long before Quinn and Rashel arrived, the vampire complaining bitterly about the airline food – and lack thereof. Once Sienna noted that everybody seemed to be present and awake, she'd called a meeting to try to get a grasp on the situation.

Which was where James currently found himself.

Sitting forward, he replied, "Okay. This is the situation as it stands: Right before Vanessa went after Poppy, she told me that her family has a history of vampire and witch hybrids. I guess what we have on our hands is a psychic vampire that resulted from too much crossbreeding. Maybe, I don't know, genes are tied to different deficiencies in bodies. Some beings, like regular vampires, need red blood cells. Others need . . . pure energy. Psychic vampires could result from something as simple as giving expression to recessive genes."

"But isn't it _inbreeding_ that gives rise to recessive genes?" Rashel asked, running a finger down the arch of her nose in thought. "I mean, I'm not exactly an expert on genetics, but I thought that was the whole problem with the British royal family," she winced here and added, "Sorry about that."

Sienna, who seemed to be more or less in control of the meeting, just tossed the hunter a light grin. "It's fine, no worries. Rashel's right though," she affirmed. "It's usually going back into the same gene pool too many times that makes strange combinations show up. We can have our geneticists look into it, though. It would help us to find out the cause of this condition."

"A psychic vampire," Quinn murmured. "That's a whole new kind of hurt. How do you even _fight_ against something like that?"

"Vanessa knew," James said. "Well, she knew how to get Simon to let go of Poppy. Maybe it's not a whole lot to go on, though, since now _she's _stuck in the astral."

"How is she doing?" inquired a teenage girl with bright red hair. She was idly tossing orange fire between her fingertips.

Sienna shrugged, "About the same as Poppy was before she was saved. Vanessa looks like she's in a coma, with shallow breathing and no response whatsoever to exterior stimuli. What's different though," she added, "is that unlike Poppy, her energy seems stable."

"It could be because she's Simon's sister," Quinn offered, his voice thoughtful. "James said that she could easily absorb power – maybe she's giving as good as she gets. Simon takes some of hers, she takes some of his, and her energy stays constant."

"That's very likely," James commented.

"Can we contact her telepathically?" this from a tall young man that James sensed was some kind of bird shapeshifter.

Jeremy came into the conversation at this point. "No, Brendan, we can't. I'm sorry – but we're just going to have to take care of her as best we can while we figure out what to do about Simon."

"It seems odd that she never mentioned Simon to you before," Rashel said, her voice low and casual. "Especially since this safe house appears to be the only place that he can't attack directly."

Here Sienna and Jeremy exchanged a glance. Eventually, the girl shrugged. "We can't explain it," she admitted. "We've been working with Vanessa for awhile, but all she'd ever told us was that her family had been killed a few years ago by a band of vampires. It's a pretty common story, so we didn't question it."

"What about the wards she put up?" Quinn inquired, glancing around the room. "They're subtle, but very powerful. You never questioned _them_?"

Jeremy gave a sheepish chuckle. "Not really. Vanessa is an incredibly powerful witch – not a Harman, but one of the other older lines. She came up with some remarkable defensive spells and talismans, so we figured we'd just leave it all up to her."

"She told me about them." This came from a young girl standing in the doorway.

Sienna furrowed her brow. "Rebecca, you know you weren't supposed to come down here. This is a big-person meeting."

"What's wrong with Vanessa?" the little girl asked, clutching a teddy bear protectively against her chest.

"She's sleeping, sweetheart," Jeremy said, picking the girl up to rest against his hip. "But she'll be awake in a few days."

The little girl stared back at him with large, blue-green eyes before declaring, "I don't believe you."

James watched her for a few seconds before realizing that the young girl was an Old Soul, and that it was very unlikely they were going to be able to hide anything from her. Standing up, he moved towards her and revealed, "Vanessa saved a friend of mine that was in trouble. She saved her, but now she's trying to get out of trouble, too. It might be awhile before she comes back."

Rebecca stared at James for long moments, almost as if she were weighing his soul. Eventually, she seemed satisfied. "Okay." Here, she reached out her arms towards James.

Feeling slightly flustered, James accepted the small girl, who became content to rest her head on his shoulder. Picking up from where she'd left off, Rebecca explained, "'Nessa told me that the spells were to keep Simon away. She said Simon liked to hurt people, but it was because he didn't know he didn't have to. She said he does it because he thinks he'll die."

Sienna gave James a hopeful look before gently prodding, "Rebecca, dear, did Vanessa ever say anything else about Simon?"

The little girl scrunched up her face in thought. "She said he wasn't far away. It didn't matter where she went, 'cause he'd find her. But she said he couldn't hurt us here because this house would always be safe from him."

"Anything else?" Rashel delicately asked, hoping that the little girl would give them just a little more to go on.

"No . . ." Rebecca answered, before stopping short. "Oh, wait. She said something else, too. She said that Simon likes kids."

The Daybreakers around the room gave each other horrified looks. Eventually, it was Quinn that pushed for elaboration. "Likes . . . kids?"

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah. He thinks they have the best energy."

After a few moments of silence, Sienna murmured, "Then that's it, then: missing children. We'll start researching this at once."

* * *

It wasn't until later on that evening that Poppy finally woke up, shaking her head gently to clear away the leftover dizziness. At the first sign of movement, James quickly stood and left the room, returning a few seconds later with a healer. Poppy's eyes lit up when she saw him.

"Jamie . . . how long have I been out?"

Standing aside so that the witch could examine her, he answered, "Most of the day – it's around eight-thirty now."

Poppy groaned and rolled her head back to the pillow, looking up at the ceiling and heaving a dramatic sigh. "You guys always get to play when I'm not around."

The healer chuckled. "It seems to me that you've been playing too roughly, Miss. Do try to get some sleep tonight." She turned to James and fixed him with a knowing gaze, "And that goes for you too, Sir. Don't fuss over her too much – it's rest she needs."

Holdings his hands out, palms up, in a gesture of surrender, James replied, "You won't hear a peep out of us, I swear it."

Turning back to Poppy to straighten out her nightgown one last time, the older woman left, firmly shutting the door behind her. Tossing a look at the door, Poppy couldn't resist the urge to stick her tongue out at it. The little gesture was enough to lift the weight off of James's shoulders, and sitting on the edge of her bed, he took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. Giving her an intense look as he reached out to her mentally, he asked, "How do you feel?"

Brushing some hair out of her eyes, she answered. "Not too bad, actually. Nothing hurts this time, and I don't sense any bruises. I just feel really . . . dense. Like my whole brain is covered with a warm towel or something."

James rubbed her hand, giving her some of his power to increase her strength. "That's understandable," he said. "Simon's last attack was the worst one yet. He really zapped you."

"No kidding." Poppy reached for the glass of water that James had thoughtfully put on her bedside table. "So what's been going on?" she asked. "What'd I miss?"

"Lots of meetings," he informed her, shifting so that he could sit on the bed and hold her against him. "Quinn and Rashel got here earlier today, so we've all been meeting with different groups about different things – weapons, strategy, genetics. It's been a busy day."

"Did you find out anything?" _Oh, water is so goooood_, she thought, chugging down most of the glass.

"Not a whole lot, but a few things that may help us out."

"Like what?" she asked, sitting back against James and resting against his chest.

"Vanessa's family seems to have originated from Salisbury. We've been trying to pull up documents about the place to see if we have any record of some kind of Nightworld attack within the last five years. We've also sent some agents out to see if they see anything unusual."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," James said. "Remember her connection to the Blackthorn family?"

Poppy nodded.

"Well, we've always known that the Blackthorns were a relatively powerful vampire family. What we didn't know is that they've been mixing it up with the Arlin witch clan for a number of centuries. They've been . . . well, recycling members of their families over hundreds of years. As a result, things have started to get a little weird, and that's where we think our psychic vampire came from."

Poppy blinked. "So their DNA has . . . whaddyacallit, mutations?"

He shook his head. "Not quite. There just aren't enough varieties of genetic sequences to choose from, so things that don't normally show up are starting to."

Deciding that DNA and all its related matter were a little beyond her at present, Poppy prodded, "Do we know if we can help Vanessa?"

James shrugged. "She seems to be stable for the time being, even if she _is_ in a coma. We're doing all we can for her, but I think we're going to have to deal with her brother before we get her back." Giving her a critical look, he decided: "I'll tell you more of this later – you should rest now."

Poppy grumbled. "I'll be fine. It was just a little psychic episode . . . nothing to worry about."

James felt his heart nearly skip a beat. "Don't treat it so lightly," he warned. "That was the worst attack I've ever heard of. He completely overwhelmed you, Poppy."

Feeling generally annoyed about being so defenseless, she waved the issue aside. "But we're safe here, right? So it's okay now."

"But it hasn't _been_ okay, and I'm worried. You should just try to relax."

"I'll be fine, Jamie. I've already slept most of the day."

Feeling a powerful stubborn streak assert itself, James pointed out, "You were having the _energy_ sucked _out _of your _body_. 'Fine' and 'okay' are not words to be tossing around here."

Her own stubborn streak reared its head at the sign of his, and Poppy defended herself, saying, "I _know_ what he did to me, James. I was there, remember? I also know what it's like to know I'm supposed to die. It's something I could _never_ take lightly. But things are _okay_ for now – Simon can't touch me while we're here."

James knew why she was reacting this way, but the events of the past few days had finally caught up with him and her dismissive attitude was too much for his frayed nerves to handle. Moving her back to the bed, he stood abruptly and walked to the window of the bedroom, staring at the gardens outside. He remained there for long minutes with his back to her. Eventually, Poppy sat up, feeling less shaky and more certain of her strength. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she timidly reached out to him.

_Jamie?_

His shoulders hunched for a moment, as if he were carrying some great load. Then he turned and looked at her, his eyes unnaturally bright.

"It's not okay," he informed her, his voice quiet in the dark.

Poppy could do little else but blink at him.

"It's really _not _okay." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "You don't understand, Poppy. Without any warning, without any _hint _that it was coming, you were almost killed today." Walking towards her, he asked, "Will we ever get to the point where I stop almost losing you?"

Poppy swallowed and managed to respond with, "I hope so, James. I'm getting tired of almost being lost."

Pushing forward, almost as if he hadn't heard her, James continued, " I was completely powerless this afternoon. If Vanessa hadn't been here . . . if she hadn't known what to do . . ." The question was left open, although they both knew what he was thinking.

If Vanessa hadn't helped, hadn't sacrificed herself, Poppy would've died – for real, this time.

The female vampire was silent, almost drowning in the intense atmosphere. She could feel James's anxiety through their connection – his utter terror at the thought of losing her and never getting her back.

Made vampires didn't reincarnate, after all. If she died here, now, during this battle . . . then that would be it. He would always be alone.

Poppy had her own fears. This was a point that their relationship had never reached before, a conflict that they had never discussed. Since the discovery of the soulmate connection, and her change, every day had been for the near future, for the Nightworld conflict, for just surviving. She had never really thought about the endless span of time ahead of her and James.

She never thought about how fragile that time could still be.

Standing on stiff legs, she slowly made her way over to James, almost afraid to touch him for fear that the charged atmosphere would burst into flames. She knew that she had to comfort him, to connect with him and show him that she wasn't gone – that he wasn't alone and that she would do everything in her power to remain by his side. It was where she was supposed to be, after all.

She was _meant_ to be with him, loving him no matter how much either one of them changed. Supporting him, even when his dreams were crazy and illogical. Needing him, even if she had mountains of her own strength to support her. Respecting him, though his wisdom still had a lot of growing to do. Wanting him, no matter how long they had been together.

Wanting _all _of him, even if she'd never _acted_ on it before.

She knew, suddenly and with perfect clarity, what she had to do. What she wanted to do . . . what they both probably needed her to do.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on his chest. She felt him stiffen, and could sense his struggle through their bond. She knew what he wanted, but he was so terribly unsure. He didn't want to hurt her – she'd had such a difficult couple of days. He didn't want to crush her or stifle her.

_It's fine, Jamie. Don't you see? It's really all right_,she soothed, gaining confidence as she felt his strength pour into her with every heartbeat. She looked up into his troubled, green eyes, reaching up to gently kiss him.

_Poppy . . . _He sounded so uncertain.

She smiled up at him, running her hands down his shirt, the mischievous streak in her enjoying the sight of his eyes widening. She moved her hands back up to cup his face and kissed him again.

_We were born for this, James_.

* * *

James was completely in awe and shock – Poppy's behavior had been so unexpected, so unanticipated, that he was humbled by her actions, her intentions.

He was amazed at the depth of her love.

He knew, of course. Knew that she had loved him since they were children. He had recognized this fact in a little area of his brain that also kept track of what she liked and disliked, what her behaviors indicated about her mood, and when her birthday was. This was another kind of knowing, however. This was born out of the most intimate connection their beings could make – a simultaneous fusing of mind, body, and soul.

_This was what the soulmate connection is for, _James realized as he and Poppy drifted down to the mattress in a tangle of limbs. _This is the only way we can really get back together again. _

With that last thought, his consciousness was swept away with blinding silver light, and all that he was aware of was Poppy – her smell, her taste, her touch, her mind, and her soul. All that she was and wanted to be washed over him, holding him close and letting him be a part of her. And to her, he couldn't help but give himself. His thoughts and desires, his innermost fears and secrets poured into her as he offered his body; her acceptance of every part of him only heightened the connection and gave him a greater sense of pleasure.

All of the terrible thoughts about her close brush with death fled in the wake of their passion, and James found that he could barely hold on to himself, much less his worry. As they came together for the very first time, he shared everything with her – both pain, and triumph. Together, they made their way to the inevitable conclusion, relying on each other for guidance and support.

Long into the night, they pushed away their fears and anxieties, caught up in their mutual love. For long hours, nobody else mattered, nothing else existed. By the time that the sun drifted over the horizon, they lay together, exhausted and numb to the world. For the first time in what felt like ages, James felt at peace.

* * *

And there we have it. After years of friendship and a year of dating, I've given these two the final nudge in their relationship. I tried my best to make it sweet, realistic, and in character. Hopefully, this was a chapter that everybody enjoyed. =)

And, yes, I know there are a _ton_ of unanswered questions. I'll hopefully be able to answer all of them in the upcoming chapters.

See you next time!


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